X Syndicate
by DZ Dillinger
Summary: The X-Men vs. a super-powered street gang. Action, Romance... culminating in the grand finale. Last chapter FINALLY done. ALL GOOD THINGS... Part 2
1. Introducing

**Disclaimer**: The**_ X-Men_** (including all prominent characters and distinctive likenesses thereof) are the sole property and trademark of Marvel Entertainment Group, Inc.  **_Blood Syndicate_** and **_Static_** (including all prominent characters and likenesses thereof) are the sole property and trademarks of DC Comics and Milestone Media Inc.  No profit or payment of any kind is being derived from this story.  So basically… please don't sue me.

**Introduction**** (I know it's a long one, but without it the story would be way longer)**

This fictional crossover is based on the movie version of the X-men and the Blood Syndicate, an independent comic book published by Milestone Media Inc. and distributed through DC Comics. 

The X-Men require no explaining, unless you've been living in a cave, on the dark side of the moon.  But for the uniformed, Milestone was an independent comic book company that had a distribution deal with DC Comics in the early 1990's. The founders and creators, Derek T. Dingle, Dwayne Mc Duffie, and Denys Cowan, primarily wanted to tell stories that starred mostly (but not exclusively) minority characters.  

Blood Syndicate was one of Milestone Comics' 1st four releases. The series only ran for 31 issues, in that Milestone folded the series in the mid-nineties.  Set in the fictional mid-American city of Dakota (St. Louis, MO or Chicago, IL), Blood Syndicate was a super "team" of induced mutants that banded together in the aftermath of an urban disaster.  That urban disaster resulted from the use of an experimental radioactive tear-gas that was meant to "tag" the perpetrator for easy capture.  Dakota's most notorious gangs converged for the "Big Bang": an all-out, winner-take-all rumble in the city's worst district, Paris Island.  This gang riot was met with a massive police response, and provided the perfect opportunity for dropping the gas on the gang-members.  Needless to say, the gas was unstable and killed nearly everyone involved – police and gang-members alike (along with anyone else on the street). Those who survived were mutated with miraculous powers (in fact, many Milestone characters – heroes and villains alike – gained their powers at the "Big Bang"). 

Some of the surviving gang members banded together to form a super-powered street gang. This gang bore the name of Paris Island's two major factions: Paris Bloods and The Force Syndicate.  The resulting Blood Syndicate were neither heroes nor villains, and were often at odds with Dakota's other super-powered characters.  The comic book was more about how these young people coped with their new circumstances than a traditional superhero book.  This was no "Comic-Code" approved book.  Blood Syndicate dealt heavily with the urban drug culture, racism, some sexual themes, and homophobia. 

This story occurs a few months after the X-Men movie, Logan is still gone, and Magneto is still in his "plastic prison".  Though Blood Syndicate had many members, this story will only feature five of them very prominently.  For the purpose of this story, two additions were made to the Syndicate roster (with sincere apologies to the creators): 

1) **Static** – He starred in his own Milestone comic book and currently has an animated Kid's WB cartoon show, "Static Shock".  In the comic book, young Virgil Hawkins is caught up in the Big Bang and, while not a gang member, still gets gassed and is mutated. Unlike the comics though, Virgil didn't decline the offer to join the Syndicate, and is now an active member.   **Known Powers: **Static has the power to discharge and control electricity and (to a lesser degree) magnetism. He can shape and manipulate magnetic fields of static electricity that exist naturally or artificially.  

2) **Holocaust **– In the comic books, the drug dealing Holocaust eventually has a falling out with the other Syndicate members and goes on to become a villain in other books. In this story, Holocaust is recruiting for the Blood Syndicate, because his vision remains intact – that only in banding together can they turn the tables on the people he sees as the "ruling class".  Holocaust is still a drug dealer, but hasn't left the Blood Syndicate in this story. **Known Powers: **Holocaust possesses the mental ability to produce and control ambient heat energy, and expel bolts of fire in varying degrees of intensity.  He is immune to his own powers, and can radiate a skin level ambient heat that makes objects melt and disintegrate before reaching him (such as bullets).

3) **Wise-Son** – Just like in the comics, Wise-Son is the leader of the Blood Syndicate.  He has some rather extreme religious and political views.  Wise-Son is a "Nation of Islam" Muslim, and was member of a racist Paris Blood faction called "Nur Allah" (Light of God).  **Known Powers**: Wise-Son is truly invulnerable.  He does not incur any kind of injury from physical, energy, or psychic attacks.  His added muscle and bone density augment his strength, and he does not need to eat, sleep, or breathe. 

4) **Commando X** – In Milestone books, Commando X is a racist villain that Static has to dispatch in a two-part series dealing with interracial tensions and relationships (namely Jews and African-Americans).  From his ideological viewpoints, it is easy to speculate that he could've been a member of the Nur Allah faction of the Paris Bloods (like Wise-Son).  This would also explain his presence at the Big Bang, and how he got his powers.  In this story, Commando X survived the Bang and joined the Blood Syndicate with his "homie" Wise.  **Known Powers**:  Commando X can make objects explode by touch-charging them… but he can set their detonation times like time-bombs (which made him a perfect terrorist).  

5) **Fade **– In this story, Fade, just like in the Milestone comic book, is "in the closet" about his homosexuality.  In the comics, Fade lost his one true (but unrequited) love when his best friend, Tech-9, died after Tech won an all-out fight against Holocaust to retain control of the Blood Syndicate, resulting in the leadership passing on to Wise-Son (whom no one can defeat).  Fade is seemingly the voice of reason and tolerance in the Blood Syndicate.  **Known Powers**: Fade has been spread out over ten seconds of time, with the ability to temporarily "un-spread" himself to become solid.  This condition allows him to pass through objects, and renders him invulnerable to most physical and energy attacks.  Fade also has a 6th-sense warning of immediate impending danger, likely due to the fact that he's already 5 seconds into the future.

Well, there you have it.  None of these characters' backgrounds will be dealt with heavily, so this intro should definitely help out in telling one character from another.  This story is the result of an idea that I've been kicking around for more than 6 years.  Enjoy!


	2. 1 Wrong Place, Wrong Time

"Wrong Place, Wrong Time" 

**August 2001** –

        "This is the last place I wanted to come to", he thought as he made his way past a burnt out apartment building.  Layers upon layers of dried graffiti art made the walls of the place look dull and unrecognizable.  He stepped out of the building's shadow, and scowled as he took in the panorama of garbage, blasted out tenements, vandalized walls, and broken down cars that littered the street.  "I'd be lying if I said if I said I've seen worse."  Indeed, the ride through Dakota's automated subway was bad enough.  Dried urine and garbage stuffed the corners of the subway-cars, or at least the cars heading here.  The rest of the city was rather picturesque and enjoyable.  The rich cultural diversity of its many neighborhoods and Burroughs was a stark contrast to the nearly homogenous northeastern locale he just left months earlier.  But this neighborhood, if it could be called that, was a different matter all together. The only way into it was the subway, and an old bridge.  It made sense that decades earlier the city planners placed the main hub of the industrial sector on an "island", or rather a peninsula, across the river.  But over the last 30 years, a large residential neighborhood sprung up around the factories, and Paris Island was born.  This was kind of a boomtown for the poor people here who migrated from other parts of the country, mostly the south, and settled to live near the factories where they found employment.  But the factories have all since closed down, and 20 years of economic decline and staggering unemployment had taken its toll on this place.  He could easily see that.  The last time he was here, the place was getting bad, but it still had some semblance of life.  Now, it was just crowded with hookers, pimps, gangs, and the rest of the people… heck, they were hostages probably.  As he walked down 3rd street and turned south on Macon blvd, he had to stop dead in his tracks.  Macon blvd still was lined with seedy little liquor stores, pawnbrokers, and head shops... but there was a glaring difference.  

        "Son of a… ", is all he could say.  Instead of "Tat-Money's", a local tattoo parlor run by Dennis "Tat" Larsen, there stood a storefront style CHURCH called "House of Hope Ministries".  "I guess old Tat finally retired. He probably died in a bar brawl or something… and why the hell am I talking to myself anyway?"

        "LOGAN!!!"  A familiar voice came from inside the tinted storefront windows of the church.  The doors swiftly opened, and the mutant's jaw nearly hit the dirty pavement.  If it weren't for his super-powered senses, he wouldn't have truly believed it was him.  There, in front if him stood a cherubic, well-dressed man who barely resembled Tat Larsen.  How could this be Tat?   The last time Logan saw him this man was a bar-brawling, bed hopping, tattooed thug.  Maybe the tattoos are still there, but the dress shirt and kaki slacks certainly didn't scream out the word "THUG".  And Logan's enhanced sense of smell couldn't pick up even the faintest aroma of alcohol and cheap perfume (which usually came with Tat's favorite women).  "So are you just going to stand there, and gawk or come on in?"

        Shaken from his absolute state of shock, "No, ummm… sure uhhh…" was all Logan could manage.  "Ok Tat… what happened to you?  I mean… damn look at you!"

        "Heh heh.  Why don't we take this inside brotha.  It's gettin' late." Well, the laugh was the same. Deep, baritone, and dripping with a southern drawl that would make Marie miss Mississippi.  The wisp of her name jarred his mind, and forced him to suppress it until he could focus on his apparently "changed" friend.  

        Logan followed his friend into the small church.  He stopped when he saw the name on a program sitting on a desk near the front door.  House of Hope Ministries, Sharing God's Love to a Lost Generation… **Senior Pastor: Rev. Dennis Larsen**!  "Reverend?!?!  Alright Tat, what's the scam?"  This made the older man stop and turn around. He motioned for Logan to sit in one of the padded steel folding chairs.  He slowly sat next to him, his added weight making Logan shift over one more seat.  Then the man turned his grey-templed head, and looked Logan over… REALLY looked him over. 

        "Fine, I'll tell you everythin' and then some, but first, you tell me brotha… how come I got ten yea'z olda' and **you still look the same**?"  Now it was Logan's turn to shift a little.  His agelessness was something that he didn't have to confront too often because he rarely made friends that stuck around, or lived long enough to notice.  Damn it!  Why is Tat not a drunken tattoo parlor owner?  Logan placed his hands in his leather coat's pocket, and he pulled out a small pocketknife.

        "Tat, I trusted you with my life once, and I'm going to trust you again.  But if ya tell anyone what you're about to see… I'll kill ya."  If Tat was intimidated, the old Vietnam vet didn't show it.  He just stared curiously at Logan as he flipped open the knife blade.

        "Jesus!!!" he yelled as Logan plunged the knife right through his hand.  The wound immediately started gushing crimson fluid.  "Are you crazy man? Here take this! Oh Lawwd!"  he handed Logan a handkerchief… then let out a small gasp.  There was Logan, holding his hand up, with only a bloodstain where the wound was.  

        "That's not all", said Logan.  "I didn't need to use the pocket knife, heck I don't even know why I still have it, when I have **these**!"  SHUUNNK! With a sick, blood-wet sound, three foot-long silvery blades shot out between his knuckles.  The older man nearly jumped out of his skin, and into an adjacent row of chairs.  

        "You're one o' them mutants!  I knew there was some'n crazy about you.  And I thought it was just you're hair!"  With that, the laughing started, and the tension melted.  "Well, man, to answer your question… this ain't no scam.  It's the real deal.  I could chew your ear off with the long version, but I'll spare you the sermon…" To which Logan secretly thanked whatever God was listening.  "I met a woman at a bar that changed my life.  She was a hooker, and you know how I wasn't 'xactly picky about my women, but later on she started to goin' to that big church on Delaney Street – Paris Baptist.  Man, Logan if you could 'a seen the change in her!  She was always preachin' and carryin' on about Jesus this, and Jesus that… this woman was the biggest ho on the block just 2 months befo'!"

        "So what'd you do Tat?  Did you marry her?  I never figured you for the marrying type."  Logan's patented smirk was already plastered on his face.

        "No brotha, she died."  Good-bye smirk, hello doe-eyed concern. "Aids.  The good Lord saved her just in time.  I loved her, man, and I was there next to her when she was on her deathbed. That woman went out preachin', and told me that she knew why God made her.  In the 8 months befo' she passed away she filled that church with so many ex-hookers and pimps that the church could hardly handle it. Includin' me."

        "I'm sorry", is all Logan could say.  Before he could say anything more, Rev. Larsen began speaking again.  "This is the SHORT version?" Logan thought.

        "Don't be sorry brotha.  That woman led me to Jesus, and I'm a new man cuz of it.  I went through some bible school with Paris Baptist, got ordained, and opened up this little church after I closed my tattoo parlor.  Heck, most of my congregation are the same people she led to the Lord.  Logan…", he said getting up, "it's late. Where are you stayin' at?"

        "Uhhh, that's kind of why I came by.  I'm on my way to Canada, and I'm sorta taking the long way. Plus I remember a tattoo-shop owner who owed me some money… you seen him around?" Logan's smirk was back, big as life.  

        "Well, I ain't seen that man in years, but I can pay his debt with kindness… that is, if you need a place to hole up?  Just follow me."

        "Lead the way… old man."  The irony wasn't lost on Logan. He could likely be DOUBLE this man's age, and the little middle-aged black guy with the small, graying afro looked like he could be his father… ok, an adopted black father… but who cares.  The two chatted about the past as they made their way outside.  Rev. Larsen locked the church up and rolled down the graffiti-covered steel window shutters.  Logan noticed that all the neighborhood shops and businesses had already done the same, and there were many MORE unsavory types filling the streets in all directions.  As the two of them walked north up the street, they noticed 4 young men unconsciously blocking their path. The young men, wearing whatever baggy urban fashions were in this month, were busy with their own "business".  

        "Hannibal!  Does yo momma know you out here with these… these _friends_ o' yours?"  Tat was in full Reverend mode.  You could practically hear the gospel choir singing behind him.

        Before the youth responding to the name "Hannibal" could answer, another young man, sporting cornrow braids and a gold chain with a charm that read "On Fire", yelled back, "Who you f***in' wit' n*gga?  Didn't we tell to mind ya damn business last week?"

        "Chill Trev", Hannibal said.  He removed his blue Dakota Bull-dogs cap, and smiled an uneasy smile at Rev. Larsen and his white friend.  "Look, Rev, out o' respect to my momma, I ain't gonna f*** with you.  But you can't come 'round here and f*** our sh*t up any time you feels like it. Come on, n*gga, we just tryin to get paid off this sh*t."

        "Really Hannibal", Larsen replied, "Is that what your Allah is all about?  Why don't you come by to church and…"

        "Awww sh*t, here he goes again!" Trev interrupted, drawing nods of approval from the others.  "Look muthaf***a, you wanna drop knowledge? Well f*** that Jesus sh*t n' peep this."

        "Oh?" Larsen looked intently, "You got life figured out, eh young man?  I gotta hear this.  Tell me Mr. "Trev", what… _knowledge_ you  talkin' about?"

        "All around the world's the same song… N*ggaz gotta get they bang on.  Straight like that, Rev. You came up on 'em streets." Trev continued on, despite the sad look on Tat's face, and the absolutely confused look in Logan's.  "It ain't like n*ggaz bang cuz there ain't nuttin' to do out here, it's just the sh*t that's goin' on out here.  It's a reality thang.  Your homie gets smoked you gotta smoke some n*ggaz for yo homies, or n*ggaz gonna think your hood is… uhhh… marks in yo hood or something."

        "What the hell are you talking about and why can't you say it in English?" Logan was fed up with the short exchange.  What these guys were doing to the English language was absolute murder and, quite frankly, he didn't care to stand here and argue with a bunch of thugs over their chosen "street-pharmaceutical" business.  At first, the group was taken back by his brazenness, but one second later they closed the box around him and Rev. Larsen.

        "First… who the f*** are you, and what the f*** is up with that muthaf***in hair!" Logan didn't answer.   He was too busy figuring out how he could slice all their throats in the quickest possible way.  His facial features took on an animal-like feral quality.  An eyebrow arched, nostrils flared, eyes darted back and forth, and if menacing scowls could kill, these young men would all be six feet under already.  He wasn't even paying attention to what they were saying.  Larsen was pleading with them to back off and calm down.  The young men were saying something back, but Logan was just waiting for their first stupid move.  Actually, their second stupid move, since the first was making fun of his hair. 

        "You heard 'im b*tch, run them watches, the jacket… and yo shoes muthaf***a", said another young man, this one holding out a pistol.  That's it, bad move.  In a blur of movement that defied the laws of physics, the pistol burst into pieces and Logan was holding his outstretched claws at two different young men's throats.

        "Your move a**hole.  I don't give a flying f*** about your business, your rationale, or you for that matter.  Either you back off and leave RIGHT NOW… or you all die… right here… today."  The stunned gang members began backing off slowly.  Logan heard differing takes on the words "What the f***".  

        "F*** this sh*t, I'm out", said Trev as he and the others were leaving. Hannibal stared back as he walked off, almost looking ashamed, and not making direct eye contact with Rev. Larsen.  "Yo Rev, this ain't over.  After we handle some major sh*t, it's round two mutha f***z."  With that, they piled into a low-riding Crown Victoria, and cruised away, ear-splitting bass music blasting Logan's eardrums in the process.

        Logan and Tat continued up the street, barely uttering a word, until they came to an old apartment building.  After fumbling with the keys to the front security door, Tat let them both in.  The place actually looked much cleaner on the inside.  Despite the worn and chipped paint, the hallways and old doors looked well kept.  It kind of reminded him of the doors in the mansion, his home. _Home_?  Since when was that his home?  They say home is where the heart is… and he had to admit, he left his heart back there.  But with whom did he leave it, Jean, or Marie?  He followed his old friend to apartment #309.  They stepped into the quaint two-bedroom apartment, and instinctively plopped on the couch.  Tat spoke first.

        "Thanks Logan. Although, you did set that off in the first place."

        "I started it?" Logan's eyes widened.  "I wasn't the guy who decided to start lecturing gang members about their uhhh… career choices. I also didn't try to start a religious debate with 'em either.  You can thank yourself for that one my friend."

        "Yeah", Larsen laughed, "them knives of yours come in pretty handy.  You cut right that boy's 45!  What are those made of?"

        "Something called adamantium.  A lady explained it to me once (*Jean*), but I forget the details.  Anyhow, who were those guys and what were they talking about?"

        "Let me start some coffee and I'll tell you", Larsen got up and shuffled to the kitchen.  Man, did he look his age.  Ten, actually, eleven years earlier this was a thirty-nine year old bar-thug.  Can't hardly tell now, Logan thought.  What Tat came back he was holding two mugs of coffee.  He handed one to Logan who sipped it slowly.  "Those uhhh… gentlemen, are Paris Bloods.  One of their momma's goes to my church.  The dude named Hannibal.  He has a little sister named Cornelia and a two-year-old son named Edmund that his mom takes care of, 'cause the baby's mother was killed in some kind of drive-by shooting."

        "Talk about your family values."

        "Yeah man, and it's getting worse.  There're some rumors about some major things going down pretty soon.  Logan, people are scared.  The gangs in Paris Island have been fightin' each other and carryin' on for years, but word is that they're gonna settle it, once and for all.  Something called the Big Bang."

        "The what?" Logan thought he was through with craziness when he left the mansion.  Now it seems like the entire world has gone insane.

        "The Big Bang.  Bangin' is a gang word for all the fightin' and shootin' they do.  Everybody knows that the major gangs, like the Paris Bloods… the Force Syndicate… Double L's, they're all in on it.  Some time, maybe soon, they're all going to come together, and fight it out.  One big war."

        "So? Why not let them kill each other?  I mean, if they are so eager to kill themselves then why not put 'em all out somewhere, and let them have it out?"  Logan finished his coffee and placed the mug on the nearby end table.  

        "Because those are people's children Logan. They're people's sons, brothers, in some cases, fathers… and you think that they're only going to hurt each other?"  Larsen shifted back and forth, looking worriedly as he did so.  "When that war pops off, in this part of the city, that's exactly what it's going to be… a WAR!  People are going to get killed, lots of them.  And don't think the mayor is going to stand by and let this happen. That old buzzard got elected because he said he would "clean up Paris Island".  All that has meant is more harassment for normal folks, and absolutely nothing about the actual criminals."  Logan and the Rev talked about all kinds of things that night: life in Paris Island, Logan's time in Canada, and even the X-men (though there were many major details he left out).  The Wolverine was allowed to stay at the Rev's home as long as he needed it, while Logan made a bit of money and got himself ready for his trek to Canada… and his search for answers.  The truth was that, honestly, he stopped by Dakota looking for a familiar face, before facing the unknown up in Canada.  Running into Tat Larsen was a God-send (since when did he believe in God?  Man, the old guy is getting to him), and finding him as a preacher actually was a bonus.  But all good things come to an end, and for Logan, the end came the following weekend while he was in a local bar on Delaney Street… not too far from Paris Baptist Church (go figure). 

        "What's going on, bub?  Why're you closing early, it's only 9 o'clock."  Logan finished his beer with an extended gulp.  

        "You haven't heard? Buddy, you gotta get out of here and get you're a** home quick.  Lock the doors too. You can't stay here!"  The barkeep was hurriedly stacking chairs on tables and, come to think of it, most of the people were beating their feet out the door.  Those who weren't were quickly finishing up and fixing to leave themselves.  

        "Can't say I've heard anything.  What's got everybody so spooked?"  Then Logan heard the three words that had haunted his mind since his friend uttered them. And this man, this bartender, had the same stark look of terror as the old Reverend when he first said them.

        "The Big Bang!" The bartender just started cleaning up faster, and the remaining patrons nearly tripped over each other when they overheard what he said. "It's going down tonight.  Minton Park near the old factory by the Paris Island Bridge. It's going to be bad man, real bad!"

        Logan paid for his drink and got up calmly and walked out.  He saw people all around him milling about swiftly.  Oh yeah, they knew.  He could feel the waves of fear and anguish coming off of these people.  He almost felt nauseous due to his heightened senses.  They were nearly in overload.  That's when he started hearing it.  The sounds of gunfire began erupting from many different directions, and all hell broke loose.  The people on the street, who were just hurrying just moments before, have turned into a full-scale riotous mob as they run and duck for whatever cover can be found.  Logan flattened  himself against a building for a few minutes to escape the oncoming rush of humanity.  Once the initial throng subsided, it was followed by traffic gridlock, as cars and people forgot every traffic law and plowed through intersections, red lights, stop signs, just trying to get away. "They're all heading west", he thought… and immediately started heading EAST.  "Might as well see what all the hell is going down."  Famous last words. He knew that.  But something inside him just couldn't ignore what was going on.  Maybe his time around those X-geeks had rubbed off on him. "Wonder if One-Eye'd be dropping bricks right now?"  He inwardly chuckled as he made his way east, and then north, towards Minton Park. All along the way he avoided the armed clashes between different groups of young men.  The youths were armed and wounding and killing each other with reckless abandon.  "How could people live like this?"  Then he saw a boy, maybe 17 years, get hit in the chest.  As the young man's chest exploded open, Logan thought to himself, "They can't live like this. Nobody can."  

        He stopped by the boy's crumpled body, and noticed a dead girl right next to him.  Probably his girlfriend, Logan mused, and then, gazing into the girl's dead brown eyes, thought of Marie.  "Oh God Marie, if you ever got caught up in something like this…" He determined that he would make it to Minton Park, by any means necessary.  Maybe he could stop some of this madness from happening.  Probably not, but something deep down urged him on.  He felt the need to be more than just a spectator… but rather, a witness.  As he watched the last jerky bodily spasm from that boy on the ground, Logan involuntarily popped his claws.  His anger was on the surface now… but who was he angry at? The guys who shot him? Poverty itself, causing people live in places like this?  Maybe it was directed at the kid for being in a wrong place in a hell of a wrong time.  Regardless, he sheathed the killer claws, and continued onward.

        Logan made his way closer to the park, block by block.  Deeper and deeper into the absolute worst section of the nightmare called  Paris Island, Logan trudged on.  As he did so, he found many more groups of young men in running gun-fights, and as he got closer to Minton Park, the fighting intensified and steadily got heavier.  The sparse gun battles turned into constant shoot-outs from street to street.  Dead gang-members and innocent victims littered the streets like dead animals run over by cars.  And some cars were doing just that.. in their desperation to get away from there.  As he skulked down 1st avenue, what passes for Paris Island's main street, Logan was taken back by what he saw.  

It was like a battle out of World War II, possibly D-Day.  Indeed, many young men, possibly a couple hundred, were converging on a huge run-down park near a factory, and taking up positions in different spots, sniping at each other with all kinds of weapons.  Logan had done it… he found the hub of the Big Bang.

What is a bonafide mutant hero to do at a time like this?  Take cover behind a grove of trees!  "This was a bad idea", he thought to himself.  "Spending so much time with the Reverend messed me up in the head.  Let these people kill themselves!"  Logan ran and ducked behind some trees, whose shade and bushes made him impossible to see at this time of night. It didn't really matter though, no one was looking for him, and the dead body lying next to him wasn't going to mind if he hid here for the moment.  The deafening sounds of gunfire, people screaming, and dying surrounded him.  His augmented hearing could hear the whiz of every bullet.  His nose picked up the rotting stenches of fear mixed with death.  Then he heard another louder sound.  Police sirens!

Overhead, he could see over a dozen police helicopters, shining their spotlights on the warring young men in the park.  Dozens of police cruisers and armored personnel vans, carrying what he estimated as a couple hundred SWAT team police officers, flooded the park.  The gang members, which up until then were intent on continuing their pitched battle, began to break ranks, scatter, and run.  Some young men, dressed in mostly red, turned around and regrouped, and began exchanging gunfire with the police.  Soon other groups joined the fray, and what started as a gang vs. gang war, became a gang vs. police war.  Well, they fought the law… and the law won!  The police begin pushing the disorganized gang-members out of the park and into the streets of Paris Island, where even more police cruisers were waiting for them.

Logan decided this was probably his time to make tracks.  No sense in getting arrested for something that he wasn't a part of, or even cared about anymore.  That was a lie.  He was mentally fighting with himself over whether to stay and help in some way, or just beat it out of here.  Compassion vs. Apathy.  One thing was clear in his mind though: Justice.  Let these guys go to jail. They deserve it.  If they were literally willing to kill each other over drug turf and whatever the hell else they want, then let 'em.  Innocent people like that 17 year-old and his girlfriend were the ones he was concerned about.  It was just then that he heard a sound that he would remember long after that night.  The wet-thuds of dozens of tear gas canisters began to clank on the ground a few hundred yards ahead of him into the crowd of gang-members.  And then.. the screams began.

Blood curdling couldn't begin to describe it… but watching a throng of young men running in different directions with their faces melting off (*MELTING*) drove the point home.  What the hell was in that stuff.  He heard more canisters hit the ground, and the screams began to multiply and intensify.  But this time it sounded different.  OhmyGod… the police officers were yelling too.  Something was going wrong!  That gas was killing everybody in sight.  Even people from the nearby apartments began running out as the gas seeped into their homes. Police and gang-members alike were writhing in pain on the floor.  Scattered gunshots could be heard, but they were being drowned out by the sound of screaming and running… of windows breaking as people tried to take shelter anywhere they could.  Even police SWAT teams sealed themselves up in their own vans.  Then Logan began to feel the burning in his lungs.  The GAS!

He didn't get hit directly, but it was in the air. He had to find shelter.  He ran back into the park, and thought about the old factory.  Naw, no good, too many holes and broken windows.  Then he saw it.  The nastiest, most polluted, pond in all existence.  He could still see algae in it, which meant there had to be SOME water in there.  "Healing factor, don't fail me now", he thought as he ran, took a deep breath, and dove in just as more tear-gas canisters hit and exploded next to where he was standing.

For three minutes there was silence.  The outside world disappeared into a fog of wet darkness, from which he could barely even tell what direction he was facing.  But once his enhanced lung capacity gave out, he quickly figured out which way was up, and up he went.  As he pulled himself out of the muck, the wall of noise that hit his ears almost pushed him back under the briny pond-waters.  If he thought the scene was chaotic before, it was nothing compared to what he gazed at now.  As police spotlights swept the park, a hundred bodies, maybe more, could be seen.  And their conditions were in varying stages of melting off their bones.  There were gang members, police officers, and innocent pedestrians scattered over the park.  And the streets near the park were worse.  It was obvious that the gangs tried to break the police lines.  Near the lines, dozens of squad cars, lights and sirens blaring could still be seen, but nothing but melted and melting bodies were piled in top of them… and around them… and under them.  In fact, the riot had made its way towards the Paris Island Bridge.  The Bridge! Logan thought to himself that it's time to leave this mess and regroup. He'd phone Tat Larsen later, and check up on him, but right now that didn't matter.  Canada didn't matter.  The only thing that mattered was getting out of here, helping out when it's all over, and then getting home. _HOME_?  No time for mental debates about what makes a mansion in Westchester, NY his home.  But one thing is clear… Paris Island shouldn't be home to anyone!

Logan decided that it would be easier to just go behind the other side of the factory to get to the bridge, than go all the way around on the riot-littered streets.  Anyhow, sporadic gunfire could still be heard, and looters were already on the march.  He ran behind the old factory, which seemed to stretch forever, but stopped abruptly when he saw a guy running towards him, and suddenly burst into a splash of WATER!  He then noticed some strange glowing shapes streaking across the sky… and they weren't helicopters.  The shapes were barely visible due to police spotlights and smoke from nearby burning building. Rioters were already in burn-mode!  He finally turned the corner of the factory and saw groups of young men and police officers running in different directions, still shooting at each other.  Others were screaming for help, as the deadly effects of the gas began taking effect. He saw one man burst into flames and begin running and yelling.  But the weirdest thing was that Logan was sure that the guy himself… WAS NOT BURNING!  Everything around him was, including some of his friends, but he seemed to be intact.  "No time for that", he thought, and continued in his trek towards the bridge.  

He could see it now, and the lights of the rest of Dakota glistening on the other side.  But then he caught sight of another group of SWAT team members already on the bridge.  Some were already in a heated-battle with some gang members, who tried to break their line and leave Paris Island, but the others… what where they doing?  Only seconds before the blast did Logan smell it… Explosive materials.  Wolverine was in mid-air when the SWAT team set off the charges that blew the bridge, killing the other officers defending the bomb-setters, as well as the gang members who were attacking them.  The blast sent Logan hurtling through the air and right through a plate glass window in the old factory, which rocked and shook under the force of the blast.  A portion of the factory collapsed on some young men, but fortunately Logan wasn't under the pile.  It must've weighed tons.  "Poor bastards.  At least they went out quick", Logan slowly pulled himself up, cuts and bruises already closing themselves up.  He could feel several bones mending.  "Hurts like hell", he said that out loud as he grimaced in pain, and then he almost feel back as he witnessed what he thought was impossible.  One of the young men who was trapped under the debris climbed out!  He pushed what should've been hundreds of pounds of steel and concrete out of his way and then crawled out.  The young man stood up quickly, and that's when Logan's augmented senses detected what his eyes couldn't believe.  This guy didn't have a scratch on him.  Unlike Logan, who was in various stages of self-repair, this young man didn't need to heal.  He wasn't hurt.  Not a hair out of place.  Well, his clothes had definitely seen better days though.  Before he could say anything the young man ran down the streets of Paris Island, into the heart of the chaos, and was concealed in the night.  "Hannibal", Logan said as his mutant nostrils picked up the scent.  That's the kid the Rev was talking about.  A mutant?  

Logan looked up as he saw another 4 helicopters fly over him. These weren't police. They were news.  His enhanced eyesight clearly made out the letters CNN, even at night, and despite the think pall of smoke that covered most of the sky.  "I hope the world likes what it sees."

~~~~~

Somewhere across the country, in the state of NY, in the small upstate town of Westchester… a group of teenagers and teachers, along with the school founder gathered in the "recreation" room of their mansion home/school.  Like everyone across the nation that night, their eyes were fixed on the scenes of horror that every major news station was depicting in vivid detail.  Various news reporters tried their best to make sense of it all, and earn themselves a Pulitzer while they're at it.

"…the carnage is unbelievable…"

"..an estimated 250 dead, but those numbers are sure to go up…"

"… Congress in emergency session…"

"Worst rioting in U.S. history…"

"… President is already calling for an investigation…" 

Professor Charles Xavier, founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters, shifted nervously in his wheelchair.  "Professor, we have to do something!", Cyclops said.

The professor looked up at Cyclops, and then the other teachers, who were secretly his X-men.  He took a deep breath, gazed at the images on the TV screen, then turned to his protégés and said, quite calmly mind you, "No… we will do nothing."

It took seconds for the collective gasps of the students and teachers alike to subside.  Cyclops clenched his fists, his most outward visible sign of frustration.  "Professor, there could be hundreds of people dead in that city… and we do nothing? Nothing at all?  Why, Professor?"

"Because this disaster, regardless of its magnitude, is of their own making!" Before anyone could speak, he continued, "The poverty that created that part of the city, the political landscape that exists there and approved that kind of police response… the desperate young men and women who decided to end their lives over drug money, turf, or whatever they call it these days… these things are not the kinds of things we can do anything about."

"But professor…", started Jean.

"But nothing, Ms. Grey.  It's one thing to protect humanity against a mutant threat, or against some outside enemy… but we can't protect them against the culmination of hundreds, or thousands of individual bad choices and decisions.  No… in these matters they must reap what they sow, as must we all.  I feel your compassion, your horror at what we are witnessing, but this too must pass, and we must be prepared for whatever the consequences.  Good night all."  As the professor turned around and headed out the hallway in his wheelchair, he pretended not to pick up the many cluttered thoughts that were flying in that room.

"Scott", Ororo said, eyes tearing up, "we're not doing anything?  What if this were your hometown? Or here for that matter?"

"We have to trust the Professor, Storm.  He's right." Cyclops' leadership veneer was already donned and ready.

"I can't believe you… any of you!!!" Storm, well, stormed out of the room.  

"Follow her Jean."  Jean Grey was already going after her friend before Cyclops got the words out.  "As for the rest of you", he turned to the eldest students who had been allowed to stay up and watch the late night news broadcasts with the teachers, "Lights out.  There's nothing more to know. I'll do a bed check in 20 minutes. No exceptions."

"But Mr. Summers…"

"No buts, Marie.  Everyone has to be in bed in 20 minutes, or there will be a local urban disaster right here in the mansion."  The teenagers all got up, turned the TV off and muttered various curses under their breaths.  Cyclops was lucky he wasn't telepathic, but somewhere up in his room Professor Xavier winced at the kind of vocabulary that angry teenaged girls are capable of using.

"Oh dear", he thought, as he made every effort to block out the outside world, and possibly even get some sleep of his own.

 ****


	3. 2 The Reckoning

The Reckoning 

~~~

"_Good evening and welcome to tonight's edition of Nightline.  I 'm Ted Koppel._

_Tonight, I will be speaking with a man whose name has become synonymous with controversy.  Indeed, in the last 5 months, Edwin Alva has seen his corporate empire and public image brought to its proverbial knees as shocking allegations continue to be made public about his company's involvement in what was the worst night of civil unrest in the history of this nation.  _

_Mr. Alva, thank you for joining us…"_

"Thank you Mr. Koppel, glad to be here."

"_Mr. Alva, ALVA INDUSTRIES is currently under the microscopes of several Federal, State, and Local investigations. Were the reports about a possible settlement true?"_

"Mr. Koppel, let me first say that ALVA INDUSTRIES has always worked hard to ensure that our products, both for the government and private sectors, have always met the strictest standards of safety and…"

_"But Mr. Alva, three government probes have already concluded that the tear gas used to quell the gang riots of Dakota was directly and indirectly to blame for the 250-plus deaths that occurred.  In fact there was proof…"_

"What proof Mr. Koppel?  Do you have better sources than the government?  I have seen no government agency produce any direct proof that links the marker tea-gas used during the riots to any of the casualties."

_"But Mr. Alva, all the dead bodies had radiation signatures?"_

"That's how the gas worked, Mr. Koppel.  The perpetrator, the bad-guys, would be easier to find once they were marked by the gas."

"But anyone that wasn't marked survived Mr. Alva.  The EPA has already concluded that the chemical burns found on over 90% of the victims of the riots, both police and civilians alike, were caused by the tear gas, which was found to have a highly corrosive agent."

"Yes, but the same agents were found in mass quantities around the old abandoned chemical plant which was the flash point of the riot."

"An old ALVA INDUSTRY chemical plant…" 

"Yes, it was an old ALVA factory plant, but the fact remains that the tear gas must have mixed with the dried chemicals that saturated the ground around the area, and produced the deadly mixture that killed all those people.  That is the finding of our own internal investigation."

"But wouldn't ALVA INDUSTRIES also be to blame for those chemicals that were polluting the local area?" 

"That factory closed almost 20 years ago.  The environmental laws in the state were not as restrictive, and federal guidelines were nowhere near as tough as they are now.  ALVA INDUSTRIES has already offered to voluntarily clean up the site, and dispose of any old chemical residue that may still affect the area."

"Mr. Alva, your company's claims have yet to be corroborated by any outside sources.  And your company has been unwilling to turn over the exact composition of the gas to authorities.  Getting back to the matter at hand… regardless of how the gas may have worked, the fact remains that it was a contributing factor in the deaths of hundreds."

"Mr.Koppel, let me clear something up for you… firstly, Alva industries has fully cooperated with all investigating authorities. Secondly, Alva Industries was NOT responsible for the deaths of those people.  My firm didn't order the gas to be used, my firm was not the one who ordered the riot police to fire live rounds into the crowds, and my firm was NOT the one who ordered that the Paris Island Bridge be blown up.  All that was ordered by the late Mayor Burke!"

"Isn't it a bit convenient to blame a dead man?  A.I. lawyers have been trying to pin everything on him since his suicide a month after the riots."

"And why not Mr. Koppel?  Roland Burke killed himself because he was facing indictments and convictions that would've led to the death penalty. And we all know now that he was guilty. He ordered the use of the gas, he ordered the bridge to be blown, it was all found in his personal documents.  All of it! This should be case closed. I don't see why ALVA Industries is still under investigation at all!"

"Because it was also found that ALVA Industries assured him that the gas was 100% safe, and there were no indications of any side effects or possible fatality risks.  There were also calls to ALVA headquarters made just minutes prior to the order being issued to blow the bridge.  You also remember that the local city government tried to pin it on the gang members, but no one bought that explanation because of the massive explosives required to bring that bridge down."

"I don't see what that, or a phone-call, or anything have to do with my company.  I think that all of this is just garbage, rumors being made up by local troublemakers.  The fact is that 5 months ago the riots occurred, an accident happened due to the horrible and unique pollution levels in the area, and then a month later the sole guilty party killed himself.  Case closed. The government probes are all concluding that there is no real evidence to charge ALVA Industries with any wrongdoing."

"Mr. Alva, we're running out of time, but let me just ask you one last thing…"

"Go ahead, Mr. Koppel…"

"How does ALVA Industries gain the trust back of the city of Dakota, or indeed, the nation?"

"By showing everyone that A.I. has always put the good of the consumer, the good of the environment, and the good of the nation ahead of ourselves.  We have already founded several multi-million dollar charity funds to help the victims of the riots and to rebuild the business districts that were shattered by the rioting."

"Thank you Mr. Alva."

"Your welcome _Ted_."

"Uhhh, yes… this is Ted Koppel with Nightline… thank you and goodnight!"

~~~

*click*

"Put on something else! I want to see if the Sixers are winning", said a gruff looking rotund man on a barstool.  He sat at the end of the bar, nearest to the TV set, and was growing agitated by having to watch Nightline in his favorite Sports bar.

        "Shut up Larry", said another man sitting in the barstool next to him.  "I wanted to see that Eddie Alva guy squirm.  I swear, that old gray-headed bastard is dirty. His whole company is dirty.  I'm tellin' ya, THEY were the ones callin' the shots that night of the riots.  Betcha they whacked the mayor too, just to pin the whole thing on 'im!"

        "You're crazy Bobby.  Ya been readin' too much of that monkey-crap in the papers.  A bunch o' those gang f*cks kill each other? Who cares! Let' 'em.  They should give that Alva a**hole a medal if you ask me."

        "**Nobody asked you.**"

        "Huh", both bar customers turned around to get a look at the guy who just so rudely interrupted them.  He was thin but muscular, a little tall, wearing faded black jeans, and a blue-flannel shirt with a black leather jacket over it.  But his most prominent feature was his hair!  Looked liked he was trying for an Elvis-style pompadour, but stopped halfway.  Anyhow, this guy was oozing evil… his menacing scowl froze the two bar-patrons in their tracks. 

        "Uh, hey buddy, we ain't looking for any trouble…"

        "Good", replied Logan, "Don't start none, there ain't gonna be none, right bub?"  He walked past the two VERY scared locals and went to a corner of the bar. Finding a small table in a dimly lit corner, he sauntered over and plopped his weary frame on the old wooden chair.  A waitress came by and he ordered a  "Cold Turkey".  "Oh man, I hope Marie doesn't start drinking this stuff", he thought.  He was still a bit worried that some of his character traits would cause her harm.  He'd have to wait until he got back home to Westchester (Home?).  Home. Home! It **was** home to him, he finally admitted that to his friend Tat back in Dakota before he left.  Hmmm… Tat.  Now **that** was a surprise.  His old beer-buddy was a preacher now, and it couldn't have worked out any better.  Logan didn't think the old Tat Larsen would've let him stay there for the 5 months he was in Dakota.  The first two weeks were the worst… due to the Big Bang.  Logan winced at the thought of it. He had been in some awful situations, but the images of all the dead bodies, the carnage, and that damn gas…  it was almost too much.  Anyhow, after the rioting, the National Guard came in to restore order.  That's when stuff really hit the fan for the city of Dakota.  The Feds were investigating everything, the mayor was found dead a month after the media firestorm erupted and the indictments started rolling in (killed himself, they said), and all the blame was getting heaped on him.  Looks like the Feds are starting to buy that line too; it's all the dead guy's fault.  Something was up.  Logan could smell a rat a mile away, and everything about the Big bang, the way the cops responded, the gas, the Bridge… everything… smelled like a major swerve.  Anyhow, the big fish aren't frying for this one… at least not yet.  

        The waitress brought him his drink and he stared at it for a little while before downing it in one gulp.  He thought about the last 5 months he spent with his friend. He was going to leave right after the Big Bang, but decided to stick around and help Tat care for the neighborhood folks who were most affected by the rioting and the looting.  It was tough work. There were people looking for missing loved ones, people without homes, people without **limbs**… and those freakin' National Guard curfews!  It all made him miss Marie and the rest of the nerds all the more.  A month ago he finally decided to forego his trip to Canada, and head back to Westchester.  He was so close now, Lancaster, Pa seemed like a good place to stop after a few hours on the road.  

        "Yo Elvis…"

        "Huh", **How did I let these goofs sneak up on me**, Logan thought. He looked up and saw the two bar customers with three more friends.  I guess they figured there was safety in numbers.  They were wrong.  Dead wrong.

~~~

February 2002 - 

Westchester, NY 

        A motorcycle pulled up on the mansion's driveway.  It was late, the lights in the house were out, and the driver killed the engine and walked the bike to the garage.  Logan took the place in with his eyes.  "Not much has changed."  Cyclops' car was still neat and spotless, the Driver's Ed car was still dented up (actually, it had some new ones), and the spot where ol' one-eye's bike used to be was still empty.  He stepped through the door adjoining the garage to one of the laundry rooms, then he went down the dark hallway and saw a light in kitchen.  "Hi there Chuck."

        "Logan, I **knew** it was you…" Charles Xavier turned himself around, away from the kitchen table and his midnight spot of tea.  "It wasn't because I'm psychic… it's because you need a bath man!  There's a room available for you.  Number 207.  I'd use the shower first!"

        "You gettin' funny in your old-age."

        "Younger than you… probably.  But I guess you know a bit more about that now?"

        "No, I don't.  Didn't make it to Canada.  I took a long detour to see a friend about some money.  Stuff happened.  Nasty stuff."

        "Well, you can tell me and the others about that in the morning.  I'll have the team assembled in the ready room.  You can make your grand entrance then. Good night Logan."  Charles then wheeled his chair out of the kitchen and into the main hallway, towards the elevators.  Logan turned the lights off in the kitchen, then went down the hallway to the main lobby of the mansion.  He made his way up the ornate stairs, and was right in front of his room door when it hit him.

        "Room 207?  Freaking son of a…" Room 207 had the distinction of being the room right next to 206… Jean and Cyclops' room.  For a man with a heightened sense of hearing and smell… sleep was not going to come easy.

***

The next morning the entire team, and Rogue, was assembled in the Ready Room.  Rogue, though proving herself to be useful, was not a full-fledged member of the team.  It would be almost a year before she could graduate and join on as a full-time X-man.  Professor Xavier was actually the last one there, which was very unusual in it of itself.  As Cyclops was about to address him, the older man just raised his hand to stop him.  "I have a surprise for you all… please come in now… Logan!"

"Logan!" Jean, Rouge, and Scott almost said it simultaneously – though Scott's version had more menace in it than the others.  Logan stepped into the Ready Room, feeling the stares of the others bore into him.  His trademark smirk on his lips, he cockily walked to an empty seat and molded his body into it.  His body looked almost boneless in the way it slouched over the leather.  He could literally hear Jean's heart flutter as he made his way by her.  Marie's heart was still beating so fast he was sure the girl would have a stroke at any moment.  *Feels good to be back* he thought to himself, that is, until his gaze met Scott's grim-faced dour.  Scott's visor hid his eyes, which made him tough to read, but the clenched lips were a dead giveaway.  The weird thing was, he wasn't sensing any hostility from him, which was fine… but no **fear** either.  Logan was use to his adversaries feeling fear.  Heck, it was natural.  But this pencil-neck geek with the crazy eyewear was feeling absolutely NONE.  Bad.  Very Bad.

"Logan, we can dispense with the pleasantries until later.  Why don't you start by telling us what you found, or at least what you feel comfortable sharing.  It isn't every day that we have someone go off on a mission like yours." He had to start the conversation on an even note.  Xavier could sense the rising tension in Logan, the restlessness in Rogue, the anticipation in Jean (hello? Did he miss that before?), and the strange "nothingness" in Scott.  Ororo was the only one who had honest delight in her eyes and demeanor when Logan stepped through the door.

"Not much to tell Chuck.  I never made it to Canada."

"But Logan, I mean, it's been over six months.  You never called (*me*) or contacted anyone", Jean said. Xavier caught that little mental "me", and just filed it away with all the other mental "slips" he'd been sensing from Jean.

"I spent 5 months in Dakota. Had a pal that helped me out, and then he needed my help so I stayed until he got things under control."

"Dakota!" Ororo blurted as Scott's left eyebrow rose above his visor. "That was where they had that riot!"

"Logan, you were there?" Marie asked.  Logan's appearance explained why she was called into the Ready Room.  All along she thought that she would be inducted into the X-men early, but this surprise was even better.

"Yeah darlin' I was.  In fact, I was caught up in the middle of it.  The locals called it the Big Bang. Well… it certainly was BIG."

"How did you make it through the riots?  Did you join in them?"  Cyclops' question came out more like a statement.

"No. I. Did. Not.  For a short time I thought I could try and stop 'em, but I figured too late that you can't stop something like that, despite whatever powers you have.  And that gas made the whole thing turn into an even bigger nightmare!"

"You mean the gas the mayor deployed?", asked Xavier.

"I don't know if the mayor did it, but that gas came down and started killing people immediately. It even ate through the cops' gas masks.  Those people never had a shot."

"Ate through masks?, Ororo started, "But Logan, nothing like that was ever reported on the news, or anywhere.  Only people who had heavy direct contact with that stuff died from it."

"Don't believe everything you read or see on the news Ro.  I was there. I saw that stuff melt the skin right off of a hundred people.  I saw the cops run for cover when their faces started fallin' off too.  Took me a week and a half to get over the stuff myself.  And I wasn't hit directly."

"Oh Logan", Marie's eyes were starting to water, "What happened to you over there?  Why didn't you call us… **call me**?"

"I don't know darlin'.  I wanted to, but I had a friend there who looked out for me, and helped me see some things more clearly.  That's why I came back here, instead of Canada.  I ain't going to search for my past, at least not yet, when I already have a present to look after.  Let tomorrow worry about itself." Logan could almost swear he heard Tat Larsen's baritone voice in his head speaking.  The Reverend was a great listener, but even better at giving advice.  Logan knew that he had to focus on living today, and living for himself, and for Marie.  He made a pledge to protect her, and that was made out of loyalty, friendship… and love?  He did love the kid.  And it seemed more than fatherly, or like a big brother.  He wondered if her crush on him had subsided any.

"People, let's let Logan get settled in.  He obviously has more information on the Big Bang riots than even the official sources."  Cyclops was in "fearless leader" mode, taking for granted that people would simply do as he said because, well… he was him.  Turning to Wolverine, "Logan, I want to talk to you after this meeting is over, just you and me.  We need to get some details worked out about your tenure here."

"Sure, no problem Scooter." Rogue and Storm chuckled silently, but Jean winced at Logan's disrespect for her fiancé.  Granted, Cyclops was a bit of a prick sometimes, and Logan was a welcome breath of fresh air (a feral, sexy breath… she mused).  But after a 6-month absence you'd think that he could lighten up on Cyke, whom she knew had only the best interest of everyone in mind – **all the time**.  That was his best singular trait, and the reason why she loved him so much.  It was good to see Logan again though… maybe too good .

The meeting went on for a while longer, with Xavier explaining that there have been some reports of mutant activity around the greater Dakota area.  Logan had said that he saw some unusual things in the riots, but nothing major after the Bang.  Scott added that Cerebro had not picked up anything and their high altitude flyovers with the Blackbird showed nothing unusual.  Since there was no visual confirmation, the reports had been relegated to rumors.  Logan objected to it all being just rumors, citing that he did indeed see people that had to be mutants during the Big Bang - although admittedly none fit the descriptions of any of the reports.  After the meeting, which dragged on for 2 hours, everyone shuffled out of the room. Logan made two appointments: lunch with Rogue and an afternoon medical checkup with Jean.  When Xavier left the room, Logan and Cyclops were left standing on opposite corners.  Cyke was near the door, and Logan at the far end.  Logan actually looked a little nervous, like he did when he first came to the mansion.  It wasn't the mansion that gave him the creeps this time… it was Cyclops.  Cyclops was there, staring at him with those ruby sunglasses, and not emitting the slightest hint of fear, trepidation, or anything. His heartbeat was so regular, his body heat so staid, that it was almost clinical.  And the silence, that seemed like hours, but was only a mere 5 seconds, was finally broken by Logan's abrupt, "Well?  What the hell do you want?"

"I want… to clear some things up."

"So? Get to clearin' bub.  I don't have all day."

"Well… yes… anyway, Logan, I want to officially extend membership to you into the X-men, as an operative and trainer, and also as a martial arts instructor here at the School.  We can take care of the paperwork later.  I was telling the Professor that I believe you will be an excellent addition to the team, and your hand-to-hand combat skills are easily the best we've ever seen.  As long as you remember our tactics, strategies, and leadership structure you'll do well."

"Leadership structure?" Logan bristled. "You mean, remember that YOU'RE the boss!"

"In field situations, yes.  Professor Xavier is the actual leader of the X-Men.  I'm the field commander, and acting leader in case of emergencies like when Mystique disabled the Professor."

"Ok, bub, that was all business.  You could've sent me an email telling me the same thing.  What's your beef Scooter?  Why'd you call me out for the one-on-one?"

"Beef?" Cyclops looked down for a second, drew in a deep breath, and then slowly lifted his head until his hidden eyes met Logan's.  "It's about me and Jean." Logan chuckled and couldn't help but grin.  When Cyclops grinned back, coupled along with a glowing red light that emanated from BEHIND his sunglasses, Logan's grin faded… fast.  "Jean loves me very much, and I would give my life before seeing her hurt in any way.  She has tried to hide it, but she was a bit taken by you when you were here last year."

"So what? Are you here to warn me to stay away from your girl again?"

"No, I'm asking you to take the moral high ground." Logan's eyes widened in surprise.  "I saw something in you when you literally gave your life to save Rogue.  Behind all the animal behavior, you have a capacity for honor and nobility that very few men could ever achieve.  Quite frankly, I have never met a more selfless and self-sacrificial man, aside from the Professor."

"Thanks for the compliment Cyke." *Cyke? Soon I'll be calling this guy Scott.  Memo to self: Impale myself with claws if I ever utter the name Scott.* "What are you gettin' at?"

"I'm just saying that, though **I know** Jean's love for me is as strong as mine is for her, you present a unique temptation, and your living here presents a distraction that other men would not.  _Mr. Logan_, I'm asking you, point blank, to **not** pursue her in that way.  I'm asking you… no, I'm giving you the opportunity… to be a man of honor.  And I have full confidence that you can do it."

"Wha…" was all that Logan could say.  He never saw _this_ coming. He expected some kind of threat, which would've been great because it would've given him the excuse he needed to cave in Cyke's perfect little nose.  But this was beyond him.  He was getting complimented and encouraged to do the right thing.  Was Cyke talking to Tat Larsen behind his back?  This is great, just peachy. If he pursues Jean, the way Cyke puts it, he would ultimately be disgracing _himself_.  And he caught that little remark about Cyke giving his life to protect Jean in any way.  Would I do that for Jean, he thought.  No.  For Marie, easily… heck, he already did a few times. This was the most underhanded move that Scooter could've pulled.  Appealing to his sense of honor, duty, and loyalty, and then look for the best in him.  Did Cyclops really see all that honor stuff in him?  It didn't matter.  He would never let this man, or anyone, look down on him or think he was a lecher. Clasping Scott's hand tightly, he said "Fine, bub.  No blood, no foul.  I ain't never been a home wrecker, and I won't start with yours.  But hey, a man can only take so much temptation himself you know."

"I know.  Jean and I already had this talk, Logan.  Jean told me she won't pursue you, and assured me that nothing would come of it.  But if you and I are to work together, trust each other, put our lives in each other's hands… then there can be no room for distraction. And buddy, this would be major.  Personal _and_ major."  

Great move Cyclops, Logan mused.  Talking to both him and Jean makes them the bad guys in even their **_OWN_** eyes.  If this guy is insincere, he's at least a master manipulator. Maybe he IS sincere, and is manipulating it anyway.  Either way, he's not going to let some physical attraction get in the way of making a home here, where he can take care of Marie, and see to it that the runaway has a decent shot at making it in life.  Jean's great, but right now, she isn't worth the risk.  "Ok, Cyclops. You got a deal - man-to-man, and this stays between us.  But just for the record…" **_SCHUNK_** – out came the claws, "I admire your guts, bub.  If this little convo would've gone sour, I'd 've sliced off a good chunk o' you before you could take off your glasses."  

That eerie glow began emanating from behind Cyke's glasses again. "I don't know Logan.  I guess it all depends on how you… **look** **at it**." And with that, a crimson beam of super-pressurized energy shot from his glasses and instantly put a dent and scorch mark on the table just inches away from Logan.  The fact that he had his arms folded the whole time helped augment the feeling of utter shock and dismay Logan was feeling.  Cyclops just grinned, stood up, and walked out the door… leaving a very confused Wolverine in his wake.

Logan began to laugh a little and said, "Things are going to be real interesting here. Maybe I should move BACK to Dakota."  He got up, took another look at the damaged table, and then headed out to his lunch appointment with Marie.

***

        Logan and Marie could be seen sitting together and talking under the old elm tree near the edge of the property.  They seemed so serene, and loving.  Marie gazed into Logan eyes with anticipation, and Logan's entire visage showed a compassion that betrayed his gruff exterior.  Cyclops and Professor Xavier took in the scene as they walked by, having an intense conversation of their own.

        "Why didn't you tell me that you're learning to block your emotions?  I couldn't get a casual read on your emotional state, and I was in the room with you.  Scott, this kind of strategic advantage has to be shared."

        "Professor, Jean has been teaching me to stay completely calm and collected. She's been teaching me how to steady my emotions, so I don't fly off the handle and keep my cool under pressure."

        "Scott Summers, in all the years I've known you, you have never been an irrational or overly emotional man.  What is **really **going on?"

        Cyclops let out a deep breath.  He couldn't lie to this man. Literally.  But he never, ever wanted to either.  In all the ways that mattered, Charles Xavier was his father.  The best father he had ever known.  "Remember the old broken TV in the rec hall? The one that we think some kid must've punched or something?"

        "Yes, I remember.  Go on."

        "Well… a student didn't punch it.  I did it. I blew it off the entertainment center."

        "What happened Scott?  You lost your visor?"

        "No Professor.  I was upset with Jean. We had just had a… uh… talk over a personal matter, and I went down to watch some TV.  My favorite team was losing a close game.  I was already upset… I don't know… before I knew it I blew up and shot right through my ruby glasses."

        Xavier took a few seconds to process the information – and its implications.  He suddenly stopped and looked up at Scott's downcast face.  "Scott, I knew that some day your powers might outgrow your Ruby quartz lenses.  Your eyeglasses, even your visor, were stopgap maneuvers."  Xavier's face grew a little downcast.  He then looked up and focused on the younger man, who, in every way that counted, was his son.  He grabbed Cyclops' hand, in the most fatherly and gentle way he knew, and squeezed it tight as he said, "I don't have to be psychic to know that you're worried that someday _nothing_ will stop the beams."

             "Professor…", Cyclops looked away and stared at the kids playing around the mansion.

"Scott, look at me, I will stop at nothing until I figure out how to repair the brain damage that caused your powers to go out of control.  You will get through this… **WE **will get through this.  Just remember that you are part of a family, not just a team."

Across the expansive property, Marie and Logan were under the aforementioned Elm tree, having what **some** people would call a "loving" conversation.  Those same people would be impaled by adamantium claws if they ever referred to the Wolverine as "loving". 

"Marie, I know I said this a million times already but… I'm sorry for leaving ya kid.  If I could take back the last 6 months, just to see you again, I would."

"Logan, stop it. You already apologized."  Her brown eyes met his.  As if by instinct, his hand passed through her hair, careful not to touch her lethal skin.  

"But Marie…"

"But nothing.  I understand.  You had some things to work out.  You're such a guilt-magnet!"

"Marie, when that gas hit me, it burned.  All I could think about was one thing… getting back here, **to you**."

"Logan, you don't have to say it…" Marie's heart was racing at a mile a minute.  Was Logan going to finally say it? Did he feel the same way as she did?  Oh God, this can't be happening – this is too good to be true, she thought.

"Yeah I do darlin", Logan said as he took Marie's gloved hands into his and gently pressed them against his chest.  "Marie, I love you."  Even before the words got out, the girl's mind went into sensory overload. In a flash of visions mixed with fantasy, she could see the two of them living, loving, getting married, raising a family, and growing old together… that is, until she heard and processed Logan's **next** words.  "I love you more than a friend… you're like family (_more than that, but how much more?)_.  I never had any, not any I can remember.  But from the very first moment I saw you, talked to you…"

"Logan, I love you too (_more than you'll ever know_)", Marie looked down at her hands on his chest. She was trying to hide tears that threatened to roll down her soft cheeks at any moment.  Was this how she pictured it?  Logan, coming back from his trip, pledging his love for her… but like a sister?  She tried to put on her strongest face and looked up.  "I'm so glad you're back. Waitin' for you was gettin' to be a drag…" A faint smile appeared on her face. 

The kid's being strong, Logan thought to himself.  He could sense her elation slowly turning into disappointment_.  I got to make my feelings clear to her.  I can't lose her, and I don't want to push her away while I sort things out either!_ "Marie, you are the most precious thing in my life.  You're my reason to live."  He squeezed her hands a little tighter and noticed the girl's face brighten.  "I love you more than anyone or anything in this world, kid.  I always will.  I know that now."  

Logan was not prepared for the monster hug he received as his last words wafted into the air.  Marie rested her head on his shoulder, and Logan stroked her hair, again being very careful.  He was the only person in the mansion who was not afraid of touching her.  "Thank You Logan", she whispered softly, and the two of them held that embrace for what seemed like an eternity.

~~~~

        Ororo sat in the rec room, staring at the television news programs.  She always took time off to just to relax after a hard day's classes.  Those kids, bless their hearts, were a pain.  A constant pain in the neck on days when she wasn't feeling particularly chipper.  But today was worse.  For the past 2 weeks, the kids can speak of nothing but Logan's return, his adventures during the Big Bang (which have grown to Legendary proportions), and all the rumors about he and Marie.  It doesn't help that he sits with her at meals, treats her like a porcelain doll in the martial arts class, and actually **_SMILES_** whenever she says his name.  Anyhow, this is my time, she thought, just relax and watch the…

        _"This is a CNN headline News Special Report.  The scenes you are watching were shot live just 15 minutes ago from a local news helicopter in the city of Dakota.  As you can see, a large structure, believed to be a tenement slum housing local drug dealing gangs, is being burned down to the ground."_

        "Oh my Go…", uttered Ororo. It wasn't the burning building that made her gasp. It was when the camera focused on a group of young men standing outside the entrance.  One if them looked like he was glowing red or yellow. There looked like there were flames on his hands.  And then she almost jumped out of her seat as she saw an arc of flames shoot out from his fists and into the building.  "A mutant!"

        _"From what we can make out, it looks like a band of mutants has attacked this building. These attacks have been reported throughout the city, but none has ever been captured on video.  Since the days of the riots, rumors of super-powered mutant gang members have been circulating, but none corroborated, perhaps until now.  Wait it looks like there some more activity on the ground…"_

        Ororo, and the rest of the nation, she imagined, watched in shock as a young man in a leather baseball cap and shades emitted a blue electrical glow.  He floated up, halfway between the ground and the helicopter, and  then pointed at the news camera.  A flash of electrical energy was the last thing the news camera caught before it all turned to static.  Ororo was so entranced by the video images that she didn't acknowledge the Professor's mental call-to-arms until he was practically screaming inside her mind.

        "ORORO!"

        "Yes, Professor, I'm sorry. I was watching…"

        "I know. We saw it too in the Ready Room.  Please join me and the others up here as soon as possible.  We have a more serious problem than we thought."

        "Professor, how could these mutants attack, or even exist without you being able to catch them first with Cerebro?"

        "That's just it Storm… Cerebro doesn't detect them."

Next Chapter: "First Contact" 

The X-Men head back to Dakota to investigate these mutants that can't be detected through Cerebro.  With Wolverine leading the way, they meet up with Dakota's newest urban menace… face to face!  Combat time!  


	4. 3 First Contact

First Contact

**"Stop… drop… shut 'em down, open up shop **
    
    **Oooohhh, Nooooooo, **
    
    **That's how Ruff Ryders roooooll…"**

            The old black Cadillac DeVille rolled down the street, music blaring from a sound system that was worth ten times more than the car. Inside the car, four dark figures were having a heated debate over their next intended target. It was a clash of sense and sensibilities – a meeting of the minds, as it were.

"…I'm just saying that we need to do MORE than just destroy that den of iniquity. We need to make an example out of it! It's just the white man's way of poisonin' the 'hood…"

"X… n*gga what crack have **you** been hittin'? **DEN OF INIQUITY**?!? Come on… this is a crackhouse!"

"Yeah man, Holly's right. White people don't put the crack pipes in folks' mouths. People got the sense God gave 'em to do what they want."

X looked at Wise-Son and Holocaust in the front seats, a little dumbfounded by their rebukes. "Really Wise? Did black people grow the cocaine? Did they make the chemicals that refine it? Did they send that sh*t over here?" 

"Yeah, but X", Wise answered, "As soon as that stuff gets over here, there are plenty of brothers waitin' in line to help 'em sell that sh*t and get a cut o' the profits. (He gave Holocaust a sideways glance) In fact, they'll gladly KILL each other for a bigger piece o' the pie."

"Don't start with me Wise! We got a deal." Holocaust had been down this conversational path before. This was the part where Wise-Son chides him about his "Street-Pharmaceutical" business. "We hit the crack houses, Blood Syndicate keeps all the money, and I get the product!"

"And resell it", finished Wise.

"Up in Harrisville and Kenosha. Let them trailer-park trash boys smoke it all up! I don't give a sh*t!"

"Some of it always comes back down here man, you know that."

"That's why we get it back! Man, I don't understand ya'll! We got the opportunity of a lifetime!" This hero-Robin Hood stuff  wasn't worth it for Holocaust. Now, revenge and organized crime were right up his alley. "The gov'ment tried to smoke our asses, but now we got them mutha f*ckaz over the fire!"

"But Holly…"

"Don't gimme that 'But Holly' sh*t, Wise… forming the Syndicate was genius, man, I'll give you that. But we ain't doing enough with it! In a year… we could OWN this f*cken city. It's all about power, my n*ggaz. And right now, we got ALL the power. Cops scared of us, the fed's scared… ain't NO mutha-f*ckaz got sh*t on us! F*ck 'em **all**!"

"But Holly…", Wise let out a sigh of exasperation. "I don't know why I repeat myself. I keep saying over and over, we need to get ourselves more organized. Take our time, and get ready for the counter attack."

"Bu…"

"Let me finish, dog. You're right, we'll own this whole f*cken STATE in a year, but only after we beat 'em for real. They're scared, and they're watching us. The government, or whatever X-files mutha-f*ckaz who run this country… they're gonna send somebody after us. Somebody who they think can deal with a bunch of super-powered gang-bangers. It was like that sh*t we saw on TV last year in New York. Super-high-powered folks!"

"Yeah", added X, "Cuz we're their worst nightmare. N*ggaz who can fly and sh*t." 

"Exactly, Com-man-do X." Wise emphasized the **Commando** part of X's gang name in a way that clearly annoyed X. "We **are** their worst nightmare. Just about every surviving crew in this city has a super gang-banger in it. That's why I made sure that most of us were part of OUR OWN super-gang. It's cool that we ain't fighting each other. I'm glad about that. But what we need to do is get ready to run this sh*t military-style. Cuz mark my words brothaz, they're coming for us."

"They already are, my thuggish brethren!" Everyone turned to the until-now silent Virgil Hawkins – a.k.a. Static (the most _electrifying_ teenager in history, or at least in his own mind). Virg was a nice kid, a near genius computer geek. But whereas Wise-Son was great at tactical matters and building consensus, Mr. Hawkins was a wise-cracking clown who often offended the "cool" folks, and used his newfound 'Static' persona to be the hero-guy he always wanted to be – too bad he couldn't tell the folks at Sadler High! By now, everyone saw the flashing red and blue lights that were following their car. Cops. No one broke a sweat.

"Static, you know what to do", said Wise. Virgil rolled down his window and extended his arm pointing to the car behind them. A crackle noise preceded the blue-ish beam of electricity that shot from his hands and smacked the police cruiser, circling it almost like a rope tied around it. The car shook for a moment, and then… began to rise in the air. The police officer inside quickly opened the door and jumped out before the car got too high – cursing loudly as he hit the ground and rolled hard (ahhhh, that darn momentum). "Holocaust, fire it up!" Holocaust looked at the floating police car in his rearview mirror. He seemed to squint a little, and then, quite suddenly, the car exploded into a fiery ball of flames! It wasn't that an explosion caused the car to burn up… the car just ignited itself. Like if someone dipped the entire thing in gasoline or kerosene. Inside and out, every single piece of it started burning at the same time. 

X looked displeased. "I don't see why you always let the cop escape Static. You could magnetically seal the door. Hell, you could stick him to his seat. I've seen you do it."

"Because X…" said Wise, "that cop will go back to his HQ and tell the others and scare them even more. The lower police morale is, the better for us. They don't ever come near Paris Island anymore."

"Darn SKIPPY", interrupted Virgil. Noticing the expressions on his co-passengers' faces, he said "**What**!? Some of us around here can say a whole 3 words WITHOUT having to cuss all the time. And SKIPPY is an awesome peanut butter… and pretty darned **manly**! Well, at least the chunky kind."

"Why haven't we kicked his ass yet?" Holocaust had little tolerance for their beloved nerdling's humor. But even though Virg was not a gang member, Holocaust personally sought him out after the Big Bang and recruited him to join the Syndicate.

"Because I'd zap all your beepers and cell phones."

"The man has a point", said Wise. "Holly, turn here on Moor's Blvd. There it is. Our 'den of iniquity'. It's SHOWTIME gentlemen!"

"Question", Static asked (causing some eye-rolling on X's part), "Why don't I just fly us all to these places instead of driving in Holly's caddy? I could lift this thing and just swoop us in!"

"Cuz I like to DRIVE my car, not dive bomb in it!"

"And you're scared as sh*t to fly Holly.", added X.

"That too. Sue me. I'm human? If folks was meant to fly, then we'd all have wings and sh*t!"

"Can it guys. Let's get down to business and do these thug-wannabes some serious damage. It's go-time!" With that, Holocaust parked his car, and he and Wise, Commando X, and Static got out and faced their crackhouse target. In a mere minutes this place would be a smoldering ruin, and all the inhabitants would be run off or killed, depending on which ones actually fought back.

~~~

**Westchester, NY – **

The Blackbird lifted off its secret subterranean landing pad, and blasted westward towards the city of Dakota. As Cyclops put it, if anyone could detect that plane, they DESERVED to capture it. As it was, the Blackbird reached Dakota skies in a matter of minutes, not even enough time for Wolverine to complain about Cyke's landing (which hadn't improved all that much). As the plane hovered over the city undetected, Cyclops took the time to re-brief the others on the mission.

"Remember, this is a blind contact operation. We don't know what to expect, but in all likelihood it'll be hostile. After all, what we do know is that these mutants are willing to commit crimes out in the open, even in front of news cameras."

"I still can't believe they're not afraid of public reaction", said Ororo. This whole situation made her uncomfortable. At the mansion, discussing the Big Bang always made her angry. She still didn't agree with their official "non-response". She admired Logan for at least TRYING to do something. 

"Well Storm", Scott responded, "news reports state that they act in groups. That might account for their boldness."

Jean just shook her head, "No Scott, not groups. Criminal gangs. I just hope they'll listen to us."

"I hope so too, but we must err on the side of caution. We just can't take any chances."

"One-Eye's right." Jean, Storm, and even Cyclops looked at Wolverine with mouths agape. "What? I agree with him. These guys were willing to snuff each other out BEFORE they got mutated. I don't imagine they got any nicer." Wolverine shifted a little in his uniform. He was still getting used to the feel of the black leathery material – supposed to be some kind of Kevlar weave that stopped small-arms fire. Of course, he had no problem getting used to the way it looked on Jean! Or Ororo! Or Marie! *_Whoa there, time to change thought patterns before Jean picks up on it_*. 

Jean's sudden smirk gave him the feeling that she may have already picked up on Logan's thoughts, but she never said anything. Probing minds was a no-no in her book, and she would never knowingly invade anyone's thought-life. But sometimes, if she was thinking about someone, she could almost pick up their strongest thoughts or emotions. *_Stop looking at Logan's uniform_*, she chided herself. 

"Logan", Marie turned to Wolverine and gently placed her hand over his gloved fist, "You think that these guys are really that dangerous?" Even though she was in the advanced training curriculum, Marie was not fond of potentially hostile encounters like Logan was – her only time out being the fiasco with Magneto. She'd been trained to incapacitate anyone, and that training gave her a little confidence, but it was a contact skill. She had to get real close to her target. And since these targets were traveling in rabid wolf-packs, this was not a pleasant prospect.

Wolverine, sensing her fear behind the question, opened his hand up and held her smaller hand. He leaned in close and whispered, "Nothing is going to happen to you kid. I swear it. I'd die before I let anything happen to you."

"Don't say that Logan, don't ever say that. I don't want to lose you again."

"You couldn't lose me even if you tried."

The Blackbird lurched a bit as its landing gear extended, and the plane made an abrupt stop. "I know Logan", said Cyclops, "And YES, I call this a landing."

"Wasn't going to say it."

"Yes you were."

The women collectively rolled their eyes at the sight of grown men acting like competing school-boys. After disembarking from the jet, the group opted to stay together, with Logan leading the way into the urban wasteland that was Paris Island. After all, Logan had actually BEEN there before. Logan led them to the one man he knew who could have some reliable information on the whereabouts of the Blood Syndicate: Rev. Tat Larsen. 

Upon opening the door to the storefront church, Tat Larsen nearly jumped out of his skin. Not only was Logan standing there, but he was surrounded by 4 leather-clad people… one with white hair, and the another one had some weird glowing red glasses. The other two looked normal, albeit the streak of gray in the younger girl's auburn hair struck the old man as odd. "Uhhhh.. why don't you all come in and take a load off." Logan was quick with the introductions, and the five X-men were soon seated and ready to question Rev. Larsen.

"Revered Larsen", said Cyclops, "what do you know about this Blood Syndicate? Our information is very spotty."

"Oh? It's the Blood Syndicate you're after? Hmmm… They popped up a little after the Big Bang. Started recruiting almost every Bang-Baby they could get their hands on."

"Every what?" Marie cocked her head in a manner that made the gray streak in her hair hang over her face, hiding part of it. "What's a Bang-Baby?"

Tat sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee a bit. He leaned in close to the X-Men and continued his narrative. "The Bang-babies are the people who survived the Big Bang and came out changed. Everybody but the cops and the news knows it was the gas that did it. Folks are still getting cancer and dying from that gas, but a few OTHER folks started doing some weird stuff… like flying, and breaking stuff, and even shooting fire."

Hearing these descriptions, the blood drained from Rouge's face. Facing fiery gang-members who could fly was NOT on her list of things to do if you want to live long. 

Cyclops stood up and paced back and forth through the aisles.  If it weren't for his visor, they'd be able to see his eyes squint as a million thoughts were coursing through his head.  Plans, plans, and more plans were being mulled over.  The voices of the other people in the room became distant and garbled, as his tactically, analytically-educated mind processed the information and tried to formulate some scenario that minimized the potential bloodshed.  

"… I said, **WHAT'S THE PLAN?!?**"  Cyke jerked his head back as Logan's voice snapped him back into reality.  

Quickly composing his thoughts, he answered (in Fearless Leader voice), "We split up into teams, to minimize our perceived threat to the gang members.  But we maintain radio contact, especially when we make contact with the Blood Syndicate."

"I'll go with Marie and Ororo", Logan quickly asserted, "Marie's green, and I'm not an energy-wielder."

"That's **almost** exactly what I would've suggested", Cyclops said.  "I'll go with Jean, since she can do area-effect damage to multiple attackers, but Marie is a close combat fighter.  Her abilities would compliment our team more than yours."

"She's a newbie, One-Eye!  And I'm not letting her out my sight on one of these X-boy missions again!  You want to be **responsible** for her?" The word "responsible" dripped from Wolverine's lips with a menace that betrayed his calm demeanor.  Not wanting to risk the possibility of Wolverine holding him "accountable" for Marie, Cyclops merely nodded in agreement with the team rosters and all five X-Men laid out a plan to split up and search Paris Island.

Wolverine, Ororo, and Marie went north, while Cyclops and Jean, with a map in tow, headed south.  Cyclops couldn't help but stare at the blasted out urban wasteland.  This neighborhood lost its war with poverty, crime, and hopelessness nearly two decades ago.  Burned out, abandoned tenements gave way to burned out INHABITED tenements.  If it weren't for the street signs and different liquor stores, pawn shops, and small markets that lined each street, he and Jean would've quickly become lost in the urban maze.

Marie, Ororo, and Wolverine crossed Moor's Blvd into Lincoln drive.  The women were just following Wolverine, who almost seemed to be literally following his nose.  He then stopped abruptly, and took in a very deep breathe through his nose.  "Hold on… I smell something weird…".  Those words froze Marie in her tracks.  Ororo began scanning the area, which looked a lot like the other run-down city blocks, and saw nothing out of the ordinary – people out at night, mostly in groups, and hanging outside of the small shops and liquor stores.  She then noticed some young men across the street eyeing them very closely.  Too closely.

"What is it Logan?", whispered Marie.

"Wait…  It's like a person is here,… but they keep fading in and out of my senses.  The scent is here one moment, and GONE the next."

"Are you sure that there is someone there Logan?" asked Ororo.  

"Positive.  You two stay close by me and… **Ooommf**!!"  Logan suddenly doubled over in pain.  He felt as if someone had just punched him several times in the stomach.  As he bent over, he could hear Marie scream his name.  He had to clear his head and get ready to fight.  **SCHUNK!!! ** Out popped the claws on both hands,  "Ororo, you see anybody… light 'em up!!!"

"But Logan, I don't see anyone, I…uhhh…", she couldn't believe her eyes.  Standing close to Logan was what looked like a ghost – the ghost of a young latino man.  He was fading in and out, like an image from a television with bad reception.  "Marie, get behind me.. NOW!!!"  Marie, didn't need to be told again to take cover.  As she saw the blurry image of a man walking toward Logan, she let out a small yelp and fought her every instinct to run over to Wolverine.  She immediately obeyed Ororo's command.  "Who are you?  And why have you attacked us?"  Ororo's eyes were already frosting over.  The wind began to pick up a little, as clouds began to roll in, covering the night sky.

"Heard you guys were looking for the Blood Syndicate, right?"

"That's right Casper!" said Wolverine as he stood up again.  "You better start talking and fast, or I'll cut you a new butt-hole!"

"Really?" the stranger asked, looking amused.   "Anyhow, you guys want to find the Blood Syndicate, right?  Super Gang-bangers?"

"Yes… yes we do. Can you tell us where to find them?" Ororo asked, but she already knew the answer to her own question.

"Lady, right now, I'm about as much of the Blood Syndicate as you punk-mutha-f*ckaz can handle!"  The ghost-man just cocked his head, and raised his eyebrows quickly, as if to dare Ororo to do something.  Which Ororo did.  The winds began to pickup furiously.  In a matter of seconds, it felt like a hurricane was bearing down on that street.  Onlookers quickly ran away to take cover inside various buildings.  Even the gang-members who had been staring at them took off for safe refuge.  Ororo then directed the full fury of the makeshift storm at the young ghost-like man.  It had absolutely no effect… that is, until he tried to become solid in order to hit her.  As soon as he gained some solid mass, the gale-force winds picked him up and hurled him across the street, slamming him into a brick wall… hard.  Ororo's eyes widened in surprise as she watched the young man slide down the wall, but fade out as he did.  

"He fades out if he's… unconscious?" She couldn't believe it.  "That's impossible.  You mean he has to USE his power to become solid?  How could he exist like that?"  She walked over to Logan, who was getting up and being attended to by Marie.  Ororo took out her 2-way radio and contacted Cyclops.

"Yeah Storm, what's going on?" Cyclops' voice came through clearly – thanks to enhancements and modifications done to their radios.

"Cyclops, we have been attacked by a member of the Blood Syndicate.  There may be more in the vicinity.  You and Jean need to get over here before you get ambushed too."

"Is anyone hurt?" Jean asked.  "Scott, we need to join them.

"OK, Storm, stay put.  Jean and I are near the Blackbird.  We'll be there in... 

"Forget the Blackbird, Scott", Jean said.  "I have a better idea!"

Ororo could hear Scott mumble something to Jean, and then heard him yell, "**WHAT THE**…. Jean, be careful… we're going to hit something!  Watch out for that tower…  higher, higher…  No, I mean, lower… **LOWER**!"  Ororo heard the distinct sound of an optic blast.  "Oh my God, that was a close one…  Please Jean, slow down a bit before we…"

"Scott, we're already here", Jean said, as she and Cyclops hovered above their 3 comrades.  Storm looked up and giggled at the worried look on Scott's face.  Huge beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.  Apparently, their Fearless Leader isn't all that Fearless.  

"Jean… (catching his breath)… put us down…. **GENTLY!**"  Scott wasn't afraid of flying, in a plane that is.  Being telekinetically hurled from one end of the city to another was not his idea of flying the friendly skies.  As his feet got a firm grip on solid ground, he turned to his fiancée and asked, "how did you lock onto their position so quickly?"

"I used Logan's mind to guide me. I figured he'd have the best sense of tele-location."  Scott stifled a groan at the thought of Jean linking with Logan's mind.  Who knows WHAT else passed through between them.  He turned to Logan who was already on his feet and stalking the area – claws out.

"You see something?" 

"Can it, Cyclops!  When Hurricane Storm blew through here everybody high-tailed it.  But not EVERYBODY."  The warm, caring, noble personality of the man named Logan faded… to be replaced by the rabid Wolverine.  Wolverine crouched down like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey, claws out and gleaming.  He drew another long breath through his nostrils.  In a low growling voice, he said (barked), "Cyclops, Jean, Storm, Marie… get ready.  We're about to have company!"

"Marie, get back behind Storm and me", said Cyclops, taking up a defensive posture in the same direction that Wolverine was watching.  "Jean…"

"I know the drill Scott, I'm scanning the area for anyone with hostile intent… it's tough in this densely populated neighborhood to distinguish if the hostility is meant towards us or someone else."

"Well, if you did a slight mind probe..."

"No Scott!  You know I won't do that! That would be invading people's minds and that goes against everything I believe in… that **WE** believe in, right?"

"Right Jean, I'm sorry. I… heads up!  Here they come!"

"Oh God…" Marie yelped slightly as her body tensed up.   One year of training was not enough for this, regardless of how intense it was supposed to have been.  *Only on covert missions, last resort, that's what they told me…*, she thought.  She saw Storm also grow rigid, and she tilted her head back a bit, as the winds again began to pick up.  "I bet her eyes are snow-white by now", Marie whispered, and tugged at her gloves to expose her lethal-skinned hand.   She quickly covered it back up. *Close range, up-close, by surprise.  Remember your training*, she could almost hear Cyclops' voice repeat those words as she mentally chastised herself.   

There they stood, facing southward on Lincoln drive, Wolverine and Cyclops in front, Jean and Storm (the "area-effect" combatants who didn't need to physically aim their "shots") right behind them, and Marie in the rear – since her power would be used as a last resort to incapacitate someone… or worse.

And then they appeared.  

There were about twenty five young men walking towards the X-Men, of varying ages ranging from their late teens into their late twenties.  Most of them were African-American, but there were a few latinos as well.  Many wore corn-row braids, dreadlocks, afros, and other popularized urban hairstyles, while the rest wore varying hats, baseball caps, or skull caps (notably, all the headgear was black in some way).  At about 20 feet away, the crowd of young men stopped.  They eyed the X-Men with expressions ranging from "intimidating" to "murderous".  Not too many variations, actually.  After what seemed like forever, but was actually 5 seconds, four African-American young men stepped forward. 

The first one wore his hair in corn-rows, and had a black bandana tied around his head. He was slightly taller than the rest, and you could see his slim, yet muscled, frame coming through his overly long, white, tank-top tee-shirt.  It hung way past his waistline, and over the over-sized khaki slacks he wore.  Several gold rings adorned his hands, as well as a rather thick gold necklace that hung from his neck, down his chest, with a charm of the words "Spark It Up".  The second and third young men each wore black baseball caps.  However, the taller one's cap was backwards, and made of leather.  He also wore a long, black leather jacket over his white tee-shirt, and oversized black jeans.  The shorter young man, who was quite skinnier (and younger) than his companions, had a black "Dakota Eagles" cap on, with the top cut off to reveal his braided up hair that stuck out and looked like a wild mop on his head. He wore a long black and white polo shirt, that went over his baggy black jeans.  The fourth young man had a close-cropped hair cut, almost bald, and had no shirt on, but did have blue "cargo" pants with many, many pockets.  You could see his many tattoos all over his arms, and even on his abdomen.  There was a picture of Malcolm X on his shoulder, and the words "Nur Allah" on his stomach (Light of God).  He was stockier than the others, but also easily twice as muscular.  

The young man in the leather cap spoke first, "Ya'll came lookin' for the Blood Syndicate… like I knew you would." 

"Listen to me, we're the X-Men.  We've come from…"  Cyclops tried to speak, but was quickly cut off.

"I don't care who you with!!!" The young man spat back at Cyclops.  "You got two choices, b*tch… leave now, walking… or get shipped back to your boss in a doggy bag, you feel me?"

"Scott, this is going to get out of control", Jean said.  Addressing the gathering of men, she stated, "Look, we are not here to hurt you or anyone.  We just came to…"

"Bullsh*t!" Shouted someone from the crowd.  "That black cracka b*tch blew my dog Fade into a wall!"

"Only after he already hit me in the stomach, you worthless piece of gangster-garbage!"  Wolverine fought every instinct to rip these new chest cavities.

"Wolverine, you are NOT helping!" Scott's voice was dripping with the patented "Fearless Leader" tone.  

"Gangster-garbage?"  said the shirtless, tattooed young man.  "That's it.  You want some, come get some,  cracka muthaf*cka!"  he stepped in closer to Cyclops.

"Not today kids!" Wolverine sprang forward, claws bared.  The young man with the leather cap stepped in front of his shirtless friend, just as Wolverine slashed his chest with both arms.  Everyone gasped.

Wolverine stared wide-eyed at his handiwork.  He wasn't intending to cut deep, but was sure the leather-capped young man would need a new abdomen, since he stepped into a blow that wasn't aimed at him.  But that wasn't what startled him.  What had Wolverine, and the rest of the X-men, shocked was that while the young man's white tee-shirt was ripped in the chest… there wasn't even the slightest scratch on him.  "This was my favorite shirt…"  was all Wolverine heard before a roundhouse right caught him square in his unprepared face.  He tumbled back to the floor, spouting up some blood through his nose and mouth.  

"This is not good", he thought to himself.  And the fight was on.


	5. 4 Blood In The Water

Blood In The Water 

        Everything was in slow motion.  The only thing he could hear was the steady thumping of his own heartbeat.  He could feel the flesh between his knuckles being sliced open, giving way to the six daggers jutting out from his clenched fists.  *Kill*, the only coherent thought his mind could discern.  *Kill*, his muscles tightened as he prepared to launch himself at his target.  With a fluid blur of motion, he was airborne, lethal knives hurtling at the exposed belly of his next victim.  Blades connect with flesh, pressing against abdominal muscles, pushing against skin and hair.

        …But they don't penetrate… Not even a scratch.

        A hand grabs his neck and squeezes.  The universe is moving in real time again.  The sounds of other voices, the smells of other people, friends and foes alike, assault his super-human senses.  His eyes finally focus on the one who has his neck.  The one who should be lying in a pool of his own blood and entrails, with life seeping away from his cooling body.  The man, who should be dead, begins to speak.

        "Nice try white-boy", said the tall brown-skinned man.  "Betcha' didn't know nothin' can hurt me, huh?  Yo Static, tell these mutha-f*ckaz what they win!"

        "Right-o Wise", replied Static in his best 'game-show host' voice.  "You five lucky contestants are the proud winners of an all-expense paid, non-refundable, one-way trip to HELL!  Brought to you courtesy of the Blood Syndicate!"

        "Wait", Jean said.  But it was too late.  All the young men standing behind the front four had already pulled out various firearms and had them aimed right at the X-Men.  Cyclops gave her a mental command, and Jean stretched out her arms just as the first gun barrels began to pop.  The cacophony of powder explosions echoed in the dimly lit street.  Small marble sized objects glided through the air at the leather-clad targets, but slowed to a crawl, and then halted – suspended in mid air.  The strain was clearly evident on Jean, as a bead of sweat coursed down her porcelain face.

        "What the fu….", that's all one of the young men was able to say before they were all hurled some twenty-five feet back and slammed against a wall across the street.  Hard.  The only one standing was Wise-Son, still holding (and choking) an almost unconscious Wolverine with his left hand.  

        "No!", Rogue yelled.  "Let go of him!"  With a speed that betrayed her lithe frame, she raced past Cyclops, baring her lethal hands.  "Drop him or I'll drop you… NOW!"  Wise-Son couldn't believe his eyes, and stifled a laugh.  

        "And what are YOU gonna do 'bout it?  Cry until let go?"

        "No moron", replied Rouge, raising an eyebrow in very Wolverine-like fashion. "This…" and with that, she simply placed her hand on Wise-Son's cheek.  His clean-shaven skin felt warm under her hand.  Smooth too.  But after a couple seconds, there was still no tingling sensation that foreshadowed the onslaught of memories and emotions that accompanied the transfer of power and consciousness from her victims.

        "Ummm, is that it?", asked a puzzled and bemused Wise-Son.  In one motion, he grabbed Rouge's hand with his free right hand and yanked on it – bringing her face close to his own.  Before she could protest, he closed the tiny distance between his lips and her own, pressing hard, but not hurting her in anyway.  Her first reaction was to jump back, but a part of her completely hesitated.  At four seconds, this was the longest kiss she had ever had in her life.  In fact, it was Wise-Son who pulled back and gave her a smirk and sly wink.  "I was expectin' you to slap me by now."  The still-stunned Rouge barely collected her thoughts enough to lift her hands and slap him across the face.  Her hand lingered on his face, still utterly shocked at the fact that she could touch another human being.

        "Rouge, step back!" Cyclops dialed up his visor, and a stream of crimson energy shot out of his eyes… striking Wise-Son dead-on in the chest, and hurling him across the street against the same wall that had previously greeted his fellow gang-members.  Luckily, he had let go of Wolverine as he flew across the street.  "Wolverine, are you ok?"

        "Been better One-Eye…" Across the street, most of the gang-members began to clear out and run in different directions.  The X-Men thought that this fight may be ending already, but then they noticed that four of the young men hadn't left.  It was the same ones that stood in front of the others.  Wise-Son, the one called Static (who still wore his Dakota Bulls cap over his mop-top dread-locks), the tall young man with the cornrows, and the bald, stocky tattooed young man.  

        "This ain't over, b*tch!", yelled the one with corn-rows.  "We just told 'em this one's bang-babies only."  Without warning, plumes of flames shot from the young man and engulfed the prone Wolverine.

        "Logan!" Jean and Rouge yelled in unison.  Jean waved her hand and Wolverine's burning body was yanked back across the street.  The flame resistant uniform protected most of his body, but his exposed skin and hair was burned, and already beginning to heal.

        "Static", said Wise-Son, picking himself up off the wall, 'You and Holocaust pour it on!  Don't let up!"  On cue, Static looked at a steel trash-can lid.  It began to shake and jerk around, and then lifted up and flew at him.  He jumped on top of it, his feet sticking to the metal surface.  With his make-shift aerial skateboard, he glided up in the air above the X-Men.  Holocaust simply walked across the street.  The ambient heat radiating from his body was ferocious.  The X-Men began to sweat heavily in their uniforms.  

        Storm's eyes clouded over, as clouds rolled in, bringing rain, and the wind picked up.  Then suddenly, the temperature dropped to freezing as the rain turned into ice and snow. The localized snow storm bore down on the heat-radiating young man.  The snow and ice became hot steaming vapors all around him, heavily clouding his vision.  Static, now almost above Storm, launched two electrical bursts at her.  But instead of striking the weather-mutant, they were deflected by bolts of lighting that shot from the storm cloud.  Static shot another electric burst, stronger than the previous two, but as it was deflected by another lightning bolt, he caused a metal manhole cover to rise up, fly over and strike Storm in the head – hard - causing her to fall forward, barely conscious.  Her eyes fluttered open and shut, as the snow storm began to dissipate.  

        As Holocaust came walking out of the mist cloud that enveloped him, Cyclops let loose with another optic blast.  Holocaust was hit by the beam, which picked him up and slammed him into the now familiar wall across the street.  Cyclops suddenly dove for cover as several electrical arcs shot past him, leaving scorch marks on the concrete sidewalk.  Static glided by on his trashcan lid, zeroing in on him.  "All good things come to an end…" he said.

        "You got THAT right kid", Jean said as she pointed a hand at him and with a wave, sent Static hurling toward a light post.  The light post suddenly bent out of the way, at Static's manipulation, but he couldn't do anything about the next building that he smacked dead-on.  Jean thought she could hear a muffled curse as he bounced off the building and landed on the street below.  She smiled slightly, and then noticed that someone threw some sand at her.  "What?" she looked as the sand on her uniform and around her feet began to glow.  Before she could telekinetically brush the sand away, it all exploded.  The last thing she saw was a bright flash; the last things she felt were the hard concussive shockwaves and sudden heat against her body, before drifting into unconsciousness.  Had it not been for her Kevlar-composite uniform, she would've been blown to pieces.  The young tattooed man stepped forward, grinning widely.

        "Nice one X", Wise-Son told him.  "That girl was da BOMB."

        "True, true", replied Commando X.  He shot a look at Wolverine, who was now fully healed.  "I owe you one cracka!"  And he reached into one of the pockets in his cargo pants and pulled out some cat's eye glass marbles.  He rolled them across the floor at Wolverine, who jumped into the air and rolled away as the glowing marbles exploded with a loud BOOM – leaving scorch marks and a small crater in their wake.  Rouge silently walked behind Commando X, and placed a hand on his neck.  "What the f…" X's eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled on the floor, unconscious.  

        After a brief moment assimilating the gang member's persona, "Yo Logan, you ok mutha-f*cka?" Rouge said.

        "Watch your mouth Marie, even if that IS that gangsta scum talkin', darlin'."

        "Sho-nuff white-boy.  We need's ta  raise up our cracka asses outta here."

        "Ummm, yes Marie, quite", said Cyclops, who was over near Jean and Ororo as they were becoming conscious.  Across the street Static had rejoined his fellow Syndicate bang-babies.  Wise-Son scowled at the X-Men, as did Holocaust.  

        "Yo Holly, you down?"  Wise-Son said.

        "You know it", Holocaust said.  Facing the X-Men, he yelled, "Yo, ya'll mutha-f*ckaz wanna play with fire?  Time for ya'll b*tches to BURN!!!"  He stretched out his arm at the X-Men, but no flames shot out.  Nothing seemed to be happening at all.  Until Wolverine felt it.  It started like a fever, the kind you get when you have the flu, but then there was a sudden warmth in his torso, his legs, and even his hands.  He looked at his hands for a moment, and he saw the sweat running down into his palms. In fact, his entire body was dripping with sweat under his uniform, and then the burning agony struck him like a freight train.  He doubled over clutching his stomach, his face a mask of twisted pain.  He looked up at a wild-eyed Marie, Jean, and Ororo… all doubled over in the same position and beginning to scream in terror.  The heat was beginning to rise.  He saw Scott and Jean reach for each other, clasping hands in a tight grip.  Marie and Ororo were already unconscious.  He heard a voice scream "NO!"  It was not his own.

        A ghostlike hand protruded out of Holocaust's stomach, and made a waving motion.  In a second, Holocaust doubled over in a fit of nausea, cursing loudly as he went down.  "What the f*ck are you DOING Fade!?!?"  Commando X, who had just gained consciousness seconds ago, was being restrained by Wise-Son. "What's your problem?  You turnin' traitor, you punk-a** Puerto Rican b*tch!"

        "No I'm not goin' soft you sh*t-for-brains," Fade replied, "And that's punk-a** DOMINICAN b*tch to you!"  

        "Fade, explain yourself, and do it fast brother." Wise-Son said.  

        "They're not trying to kill us Wise.  I've been watching the fight, and every time they could have really hurt us, they just settled for smacking us around."  Wise-Son, still holding Commando X back, began to process the information.  "They could've put the hurt on us bad, but they just kept deflecting our attacks and pushing us back."

        "Speak for yourself, desperado", said Static, still rubbing his head. "That building hurt me plenty."

        "But she could've snapped your neck on that building just as easily.  You saw that red-head stop fifty bullets in mid-air.  She could've thrown all of you so hard against the wall that none of you would have gotten up… except Wise of course."  Wise-Son let Commando-X go, who stumbled a bit at first, still feeling the effects of Rouge's brief touch.  He got up and was about to berate Fade some more, when Wise-Son shot him a "back-down" look.  He settled for going over to Holocaust and helping him to his feet.  

        Holocaust pushed X aside and glared at Fade with glowing eyes.  His clenched fists ignited into flames as he slowly said, "This.  Better.  Be.  Good."

        "It is", said Wise-Son.  "Calm yourself down. Hold up."  Wise-Son walked over across the street, where the X-Men were beginning to get up.  Wolverine was the only one who was on his feet, and he had Marie cradled against his body.  Wise-Son could see the anger drip off of this man, and as he approached them, Wolverine gently lowered Rouge to the ground and popped his lethal claws.  Wise-Son stopped and held up his hands.  "Hold up dog.  We could keep this up and kill ya'll… or you could just raise up out o' here right now.  Take your peeps with you.  Your choice."

        "We weren't here to hurt you in the first place", Scott managed to get the words out under the strain of his abdominal burns.  He touched the X insignia on his uniform, which signaled the Blackbird to home in on their position.  "We just wanted to talk, to see if the reports of mutant activity were real."

        "We ain't mutants", said Wise-Son, a worried look briefly crossing his face.

        "That may or may not be true.  But you're definitely different", Scott dragged Jean up, and then went over to Ororo, who needed help as well.  The Blackbird hovered over them, and then gently set down on the street a few dozen feet away.  Scott motioned for everyone to board.  As he walked near Wise-Son, he suddenly said, "Ummm, Mr. Wise, maybe you should accompany us and help Wolverine fly the jet. It needs two people, and I'm in no condition to pilot a jet right now."

        "What are ya talkin' about, this thing can", a sudden thought entered Wolverine's mind *Shut-Up LOGAN and go along with Scott*.  "I mean, err… yeah this thing can't be flown by me alone.  Somebody's got to be at the other controls. And since YOU guys want us out, AND you're the reason we can't fly the plane…"

        "Bullsh*t!" replied Wise-Son (sounding like Samuel Jackson).  "You got to be out o' yo GOD-damn mind if ya think I'm going to…"  Fade had already walked (floated) over and whispered in Wise-Son's ears.

        "I know it might be a trap, but this is a great opportunity to find out who these dudes and who sent them."  Wise-Son gave Fade a look that said 'You got to be out o' YOUR god-damn mind'.  As if reading his mind, Fade continued in hushed tones, "No, I'm NOT out of my god-damned mind.  Take some of the guys with you.  If it's a trap, kill 'em all."

"Ooh-Ooh, LET ME GO WISE!  This plane looks cooler than Star Trek!  Please, let me go!" Static's full-geekiness was oozing out.  

        After rolling his eyes, and thinking *this might be a trap*, Wise-Son said, "Go ahead and go Static.  You and Holly, and X too." 

        "What about you Wise?" asked Holocaust as he approached the X-Men – with an ecstatic nerd running up behind him.  

        "I'll stay here and…"

        "Wise, you should go too", Fade interrupted. Before Wise-Son could respond he continued, "I'll holla at Templo and Third-Rail.  They'll help me hold it down 'til you get back."  Fade then whispered "Plus, you trust Holly and X to be your eyes and ears?  Come on, Mr. Invulnerable.  Don't worry, we'll keep it together 'til you get back."

        "Ok, I'll go Fade, but call up DMZ and Masq too.  You'll need their help."

        "Damn, Wise.  You always got to stack the crew with Paris Bloods, dontcha'?" Fade flashed a smile.  He was only half-joking – since Wise-Son really did seem to always want to hang around ex-Paris Bloods bang-babies more than anyone else. 

        "Old habits die hard man. Anyhow, I'm outty.  I'll holla at ya when I get to wherever the hell we're going", turning to the others he said, "Holly, X, Static… you're with me.  Let's roll."  Static pumped his fist in the air repeatedly when he was told they were going to ride the Blackbird – looking like Jar Jar Binks in the process.  As the X-Men got loaded, Wise-Son leaned over to Holocaust and whispered, "Anything happens, anything at all… I want you to go NUCLEAR on these mutha-f*ckaz.  Ya feel me?  I want them cooked in an instant – none of that slow burn sh*t!"

        "I feel ya homie, I feel ya."  The four Blood Syndicate members boarded the Blackbird behind the internally injured X-Men.  Fade looked on intently as the Blackbird's engines roared, and it lifted up into the Dakota night sky.  After hanging there for second, the Blackbird's engines flashed bright, and it was gone.  

        "There goes the neighborhood", he said, and faded out.


	6. 5 My Brother's Keeper

My Brother's Keeper 

        The Blackbird flew above cloud cover, silently slicing its way through the murkiness of the night.  Inside the cockpit sat the most motley crew ever assembled.  At the helm were Logan, otherwise known as Wolverine, and a gang member calling himself Wise-Son.  The other seats were filled with assorted gang-members, calling themselves Holocaust, Static, and Commando X.  In the rear cabin of the Blackbird, there was a makeshift emergency infirmary.  There, the remaining X-Men were warily monitoring the situation in the cockpit, keeping a watchful eye on their "guests" through the infirmary's sensors.  

        "Unnnhh", Jean strained to speak under the pain her abdomen was feeling.  It felt like someone tried to set her on fire from the inside.  If it weren't for the painkillers and medications on board the Blackbird, she and the others would have passed out again.  "Scott, how is it going in there?  I can't see the monitor.  And my body aches are making it hard for me to concentrate."

        "It's fine Jean… and don't strain yourself."  Scott was laboring heavily under the pain of his OWN internal burn wounds.  Ororo was completely unconscious again.  She looked so restive, so serene, but it was only the medication – for when she awoke, the pain of having her organs partially seared would contort her pristine features.  "Marie, how are you doing?"

        "Fine really. Having touched Logan a little while back really helped me.  My stomach doesn't hurt anymore at all!"  The other X-Men momentarily envied the mutant teenager.  Her temporary acquisition of Wolverine's healing factor would completely heal her of wounds that the rest of them may have to live with for quite some time.  Marie was staring at the monitor, looking at the young man sitting next to Logan – Wise-Son.  *He can touch me*, she thought. She looked down at her glove-covered hands, rubbing them together… wondering if she would ever forget the feel of skin under her fingers… or if she would ever touch human skin again. She suppressed the wave of depression that began to trickle over her.  This was supposed to be a dead topic, or so she thought.  She was almost succeeding in growing complacent with the idea of having to encase herself in clothing, but in one moment, that… that MAN changed everything.  He touched her!  Kissed her!  Why did he do such a thing, and rob her of her fragile contentment!  Or could his act be a gift in disguise?  No!  It wasn't a gift, because if she wanted to kiss anyone in the world it was the man sitting NEXT to that gang member: Logan.

        "Marie… are you listening to me?  I said turn the volume UP?"  Scott stared incredulously at the girl.  Marie snapped out of her thoughts and abruptly turned up the volume.  Scott pretended to ignore the pensive look on her face, as he was now trying to concentrate on the conversation in the cockpit…

        "This is bullsh*t, man", Wise-Son glared at Logan - who was doing his best not to punch him in the face.  "This plane is flying itself!  I ain't even touched the control yet… and neither have you!"

        "Listen smart-guy…  what do you think happens if the auto-pilot fails?  Hnmmm?"  Logan was never a patient man, and this young man was doing back flips on his last nerve.  "If we need to fly and land this son-of-a-b*tch then it'll take the two of us.  Not everybody's can survive a plane crash, pal!"

        "I.  Do. NOT.  Want.  To.  CRASH.  Wise!"  Holocaust looked as if all the blood drained out of his face.  It probably did – since he was already afraid of flying.

        "Can you imagine that Holly… a fiery plane crash?  The engines failing…" Static was loving life.  He got to ride a jet that he deemed "Star-Trek" cool, and on top of that he got to a chance to make Holocaust's life a living hell - two birds with one stone.  

        "Change the subject, punk!"

        "Then the plane starts to shake and rattle…"

        "Shut-up man!"

        "Then the air pressure goes crazy, and the plane begins to spiral and fall…"

        "WISE, X, MAKE HIM SHUT-THE-F*CK-UP!!!"

        "Ummm, no way Holly", replied Commando X, who was busy reading a magazine.  "Me and you can't use our powers in here, it might make the plane crash.  Why don't you get up and kick his a$$ yourself?"

        "Because this punk-a$$ stuck me to my seat!"  At that, the cockpit erupted with laughter.  Even though watching Holocaust moan like a scared puppy was no fun, the current levity at least served to clear the air of a lot of built-up tension.  Logan's guard went down a bit, but he was still prepared to gut his fellow passengers at the first sign of trouble.   He already knew that his claws couldn't cut Wise-Son, but that just meant he would have to be more "creative".  The Blackbird lurched a bit, causing Holocaust to nearly pass out, and began its descent into Westchester.  The plane silently glided across the night sky, over rolling hills and meadows, and came to hover over Charles Xavier Institute for the Gifted.  What was once the tarmac basketball courts, gave way to an underground hangar.  The Blackbird passed through the bay doors, and flew into the hangar, before gently setting down.

        "Professor, we're here", Jean sent a mental heads-up to the Professor.  

        "I know Jean, I've been mentally monitoring you and the others since you flew through New York.  And I see you brought three guests with you?"

        "No Professor, we have four."

        "That's impossible.  I can clearly detect and read you X-Men and three other people on the Blackbird."

        "I know Professor", thought Jean, "but there is definitely a fourth person.  He calls himself Wise-Son and from what we've gathered he's completely invulnerable.  I can't get a lock on his mind either.  It's like he's not there, or like our powers don't work on him."

        "Interesting", answered Charles, "Make sure you and the others report to the infirmary.  You will all need some thorough examinations, and, for some of you, the burned tissue may have to be removed."

        "Oh?  You know about that?"

        "It's tough to block that part out, considering all the discomfort you all are feeling."

        "Yes Professor", Jean and Scott answered in unison.  Jean almost forgot for a moment that her mind and Scott's were linked.  She smiled at Scott, who returned her grin with an almost boyish grin of his own.  *God, I love him*, she thought, and she suddenly thought back to that moment during their battle, when she thought they would be burned inside out together.  She realized that she couldn't think of anyone but Scott since then.  A sudden pang of guilt came over her as she remembered the spectacle she'd been making of herself whenever anyone would even mention Logan's name.  As if sensing her trepidation, Scott slipped his hand over hers, and gently held it firmly.  The look on his face said it all: even without seeing his eyes, she could see a mixture of love and forgiveness that melted her heart and made her eyes water.  They held their mental embrace for what seemed like an eternity, until Ororo's moans of pain broke their love-trance.

        "I feel like I've been microwaved", Ororo stood up and hopped off of her medical bed.  She winced slightly, still feeling the pain in her stomach even through the medication.  "I need more painkillers."

        "No Storm", cautioned Jean, "We've all had more than we should.  Let's go down to the infirmary and take a look at the damage first."

        As the X-Men filed out of the Blackbird, they saw Logan and the Blood Syndicate members standing near the west hangar entrance door.  The X-Men walked by the Syndicate warily, saying nothing, and not making eye contact with them.  That is, until Scott gestured to Jean to keep going, turned around, and walked right up to Wise-Son.  "Thank you for coming with us on such short notice.  We'll arrange for you transportation back to Dakota later, but please have a look at the place first.  Logan will show you up to the upper levels."  He motioned to Logan to lead the way.

        "Come on gentlemen, follow me.  You're gonna like this."  Logan started to walk down the hallway to the elevator.  Wise-Son and the others mumbled something amongst themselves, then decided to follow him.  

        They walked down a steel walled hallway towards the elevator. The elevator doors hissed open, and Logan signaled for the others to step in.  Wise-Son, Static, and Commando X stepped in quickly, and Holocaust warily followed.  *Claustrophobic too*, Logan thought, and then he filed that little observation away in his mind.  None pf the Syndicate members said a word, which made the elevator ride seem to last forever.  The ride stopped, and the doors opened – to reveal the pristine, 19th century workmanship of the school's lobby.  The gang members stared wide-eyed at the opulence of it all.  Ornate stairs were decorated with lavish trimmings.  Regal furniture adorned the area, with authentic looking rugs, paintings, and statues adding to the room's Old-World flavor.  "Fellas, welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Nerds."

        "Not quite, it's Xavier's School for the Gifted."  Charles Xavier's mental voice made three of the Syndicate members suddenly jump (Guess which one didn't hear Xavier's voice?).  

        "What the f*ck was that?" Holocaust nearly ran over Static on his way out of the elevator.

        "Do not be afraid, I am Professor Charles Xavier.  Please, come to my study.  I've been waiting for you."  The gang members were still startled by the sudden appearance of a voice in their heads.  Wise-Son was thoroughly confused, since he didn't hear the voice at all.  Instead he just trusted that the others were telling him the truth when they all headed towards a large oaken door in the main lobby.  Holocaust opened the door, and Wise-Son was the first one in, ready to deflect whatever attack he was sure was waiting for them.  What greeted the Syndicate members was a serene office, lined with books, and an old man sitting behind a large, ornately decorated desk. "Come in gentlemen.  I've been expecting you!"

        "What the hell is this place?" asked Commando X.  Having been silent until now, he couldn't keep in his disdain for all things "wealthy".  And this place reeked of wealth.  He stared at the bald old man in the wheelchair, and was a little startled by the absolute lack of hostility in the man's face. 

        "This place is our home, and our base of operations", replied the professor.  "You have already met my X-Men.  They are a covert group that sometimes has to act behind-the-scenes in the secret wars fought by mutants and humans."

        "Mutants?" Static's ears perked up.  "You guys are the people from the Statue of Liberty thing last year right?  That was PHAT!!!"

        "Down nerd", cut in Wise-Son, holding out his hand to steady his hyperactive friend.  "Are you saying that this place is a mutant hideout?  And ya'll ain't working for nobody?"

        "Actually, this place is more like a sanctuary for mutants.  Follow me, all of you."  Professor X wheeled his motorized wheelchair out of the office.  The gang members shrugged and followed the old man (what choice did they have – aside from trying to kill him).  Professor X gave them the grand tour of the facilities, and fielded a trillion questions from Static alone.          "This place masquerades as a school for gifted youngsters, but the gifts are actually mutations – such as yours…"

        "We are NOT mutants!" This was the THIRD time Wise-Son had to say this. What was the matter with these people?  Bang-babies are NOT mutants.  They CAN'T be mutants!

        "You may not be genetic mutants… but I fear you are INDUCED mutants.  I know of the existence of many people who are actively trying to CREATE people like you for their own purposes.  It seems that you all have been given these gifts by accident."

        "Gifts? GIFTS?!?!" Holocaust's rage was too much to contain.  Commando X and Static were holding him back as he verbally tore into Charles Xavier and Logan.  "You call these gifts?!  I saw tons of my homies DIE in the Big Bang!  My cousins died!  My baby AND his momma died o' cancer from that sh*t!"  Tears were now rolling down his face, as his friends loosened their grip on him.  He slumped down on the floor, covering his face with his hands.  "I couldn't even go to their funerals cuz I didn't know how to stop burning sh*t!" Between muffled sobs, all he could say was, "This is bullsh*t… bullsh*t…"  Commando X wiped a small tear from his own eyes as memories of fallen friends and enemies alike flooded his mind.  He and Wise-Son walked over to Holocaust and picked him up off of the floor.  Wise-Son held his closest friend in a tight embrace as the grown man – temporarily overcome with grief – sobbed.  "It should've been me… should've been me…"  

Wise-Son and the others had been through this before.  Holocaust was walking around with some massive baggage, and would never talk about it to anyone, not even to X and Wise.  Static walked over to the Professor, who had an expression of compassion on his face, and apologized form Holocaust's outburst.

"It's all right", Professor X replied, "this young man has been through severe trauma, as you all have.  It will take time for all of you to heal.  Some of you may never fully recover, but you must continue living on, in a world that sometimes hates us because of our powers and abilities… or even the color of our skin."  Commando X looked back at Professor X, raised an eyebrow, and nodded.  "We have guest quarters prepared for all of you in the West wing.  Logan, please show our guests to their rooms."

"Sure thing Chuck", Logan said as he motioned the others to follow him to their rooms.  When they were out of sight, Professor X contacted Jean telepathically.

"Jean, how are the others?"

"We're fine professor… the damage wasn't as bad as we thought, but the pain is still going to be a problem for a while." After some silence, Jean asked, "How are our guests doing?"

"They're fine, and they didn't harm anyone, if that's what you mean."

"Ok, Professor, but tomorrow morning we need to figure out a way to run some tests on them – especially that Wise-Son guy."

"Agreed."  Professor X continued on to his own sleeping quarters.  It was much larger than any of the others in the mansion.  "This is going to be VERY interesting", he said to himself.

************

        Once morning hit, it was back-to-normal and mutant high.  The kids mulled around breakfast, many of them buzzing and gossiping about the Blood Syndicate.  "…these guys kill people…", "…they're dangerous…", "…I ain't scared…", "…I saw one, he was kinda cute…"

        The chatter was silenced a little when the sound of gangster rap music   came blaring from down the hallway, in the rec room. Some of the students, especially Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby Drake, and Marie, immediately got up and headed in that direction. "What the hell is that noise?" asked Scott, who was grimacing along with Logan.

        "They call that MUSIC, One-Eye. I had to put up with that crap in Dakota… now we bring it here!  Who's bright idea was it to bring these goons here?" Logan looked directly at Scott.

        "Maybe we can send them back".

        "You two guys are just behind the times", Ororo said as she and Jean shared a smile. "You guy need to listen to something made AFTER 1989."

        "What's wrong with Guns-N-Roses?  They're the greatest band of all time!" Scott looked at the ladies incredulously as Jean and Ororo rolled their eyes.  "What?  How is that wrong?"

        Down the hallway, Kitty, Jubilee, Bobby, and Marie made their way to the rec room.  When they opened, their ears were assaulted by the sheer volume of the music.  Of course, to them, this was the coolest stuff they had heard in a while.  The gang members were all there.  Wise-Son and Holocaust were playing billiards, Static was (of course) playing video games with an intensity rarely seen in a teenager.  Commando X was lounging on one of the Bean Bag couches, as usual, reading.  Static was the first one to notice that they had an audience.  Pointing at the teens, he said, "Yo man, peep the locals", without ever looking away from the television screen.

        Commando X put his magazine down, got up from the couch, and stared down the mutant teens.  Wise-Son and Holocaust pretended not to notice them.  They just kept playing and peppering their conversation with timely expletives.  "Ummm, your music is pretty loud", Kitty said, albeit it sounded more like a squeak.

        "Why don't you come in here and turn it down", Commando X shot back.

        "Back off Ja-Rule", Jubilee jumped in front of her mousy little friend and put a finger in Commando X's face.  "I can appreciate Jay-Z as much as the next girl, but it IS pretty loud." Static looked at the loud Asian girl – and looked again… even dropping his gamepad controller.

        "Hey fellas, we don't want any trouble", Bobby grimaced at his own words. *Could you have sounded any WHITER, Drake*, he thought to himself.  "I mean it's cool, just a little loud."

        "Turn it down X", Wise-Son and Holocaust stopped playing billiards and regarded the teen quartet.  Commando X walked over to the stereo, and turned down the music.  He walked back over to the beanbag couch and slouched over it.  Wise-Son walked towards the teens and looked at each one in turn.  Focusing on Marie, he thought, *damn, this girl is fine*, and said, smirking, "Ya'll ready for round two?"

        "Ohmigodhe'scutelikeyousaidMarie", blurted out Jubilee in her usual machine gun fashion.

        "Thank you very much Jubes", Rogue said, the last remnants of her self-esteem draining from her body.  "I just wanted to get an apology from you."

        "Apology… for what?" asked Commando X.

        "I think she means for trying to kill them all yesterday", Static said.  "You remember, I tried to electrocute them, you tried to blow up the redhead, Holly micro-waved their guts…"

        "Oh really?  Do you want me to apologize for kissing you too?" Wise-Son smiled and prepared for some kind of slap.

        "Ohmigodhekissedyou… youdidn'tsaythatlastnight… FessupgirlYouareSooooBusted!"  Kitty just giggled as Jubilee went into overload.  

        "Is she always like this?" asked Static, pointing and smiling ear to ear.

        "Yeah, sometimes I'm worse", answered Jubilee.  It was then that she noticed the skinny muscular dude in the tee shirt, jeans, and blue visor staring at her.  She caught herself at him too, and blushed slightly.

        "No I don't want you to apologize for that", said Marie, "I mean… YES!  Apologize for everything!  At least say you're sorry or something!"  Wise-Son looked at Marie's face intently – a mixture of emotions and feelings that he couldn't read.  

He stepped even closer to her, and reached for one of Rogue's gloved hands.  She hesitated at first, but just like the other day, curiosity got the better of her and she let him grab it.  "I'm sorry for everything we did to ya'll yesterday, I really am.  We all are… except the kiss part."  And with that, he removed the glove from her hand, and kissed it slightly. The rest of the mutant teens gasped, since they had never seen ANYONE touch Marie, and not be in a coma.  Marie pulled her hand away and replaced the glove quickly.

"Please don't do that anymore!" she said with a barely audible voice.

"Do what?  Kiss your hand?  Sorry.  I was just playin'.  Wise-Son: feigning innocence.

"No, I mean touching me.  I can't handle it right now."  Marie turned quickly and walked out of the room.  Kitty and Bobby Drake went behind her, mumbling something about being late for class.  Jubilee just stared and smiled at Static and started to walk out awkwardly.

"What's your name", she said when she got to the doorway.

"Virgil Hawkins", he replied, "But these guys call me Static."

"What should I call you?" Jubilee grinned and blushed even deeper.  Cute guys may have been hard to find in the mansion, but here she was making time with the "geeky-yet-murderously-dangerous-and-cute" muscular gang member.  

"Call me whatever, but please just call me!"  Static winced inwardly as he realized how stupid that sounded.  Jubilee didn't seem to notice, as she just smiled all the more, and walked out the door.

"Please just call me!?!  What a NERD!" Commando X and Holocaust laughed loud.

"Shut-up man, I think she likes me man!" Static put the video games away and headed out the door. "Anyhow, she's fine as hell!"

"True dat little man", Holocaust said, "Just remember not to fry her when you hit that a$$!"  More laughter from the other gang members.

"Not everything revolves around sex, Mr. Pimp O' Da Year!" Static left the room and headed for his scheduled checkup with Dr. Grey.  It had been a long time since he let a doctor take a look at him, and he was eager to find out what was going on with his body since the Big Bang.

When he left the room, Wise-Son turned to his fellow Syndicate members and said, "That boy's a good kid, but he's got no game!"

"Like you?" asked Holocaust. "I saw you rappin' to that white-girl.  You wanna tap that a$$ don't ya?" 

"The thought DID cross my mind… but I think she's in love with that Logan dude."

"Nigga, what's love got do with sh*t", Commando X added his two-cents. "Just bend that white b*tch over and go fo' yours!"

"X, shut the f*ck up."  Wise-Son walked over to the beanbag couches and sat down.  "I'm not lookin' to knock her boots, she's just weird.  Not being able to touch nobody and sh*t."

"Hell yeah..", said Holocaust, "You'll be the first, last, and ONLY mutha-f*cka to hit that!  I guaran-Damn-TEE you'll be in that sh*t by this Friday!"  Wise-Son just smirked, but didn't let on that he had already gotten past the obvious sexual implications of his powers and Rogue's mutation.  Overnight, he had thought a lot about how much she seemed to love Logan.  Why did it mater to him, anyhow.  Wise-Son didn't believe in love-at-first-sight, and he was damn sure it wouldn't ever be with a white young lady.  He and Commando X's Nur Allah faction of the Paris Bloods would bounce him out of the gang if they knew he was even thinking of a white girl in anything more than sexual terms.  It was anathema.  But this is a brand new day, he thought.  The Big Bang, and everything since then, has changed things.  Some for the better, others for the worse… but, mind you, everything's changed.  He got up to walk out.  "Hey man, where you goin?"

"Out, to think on some things", replied Wise-Son. And with that, he walked out of the rec room, leaving behind two very suspicious gang members.

"Yo X", Holocaust said, "You caught that sh*t with Static and Wise?"

"Yeah nigga I did", Commando X stood up and ripped a page out of the magazine he was reading.  He balled it up in his hand, and it began to glow.  "If Wise or Static think that we're here to play nice with these mutha-f*ckas, they're wrong…" And with that, he tossed the glowing wad of paper out the window – and a concussive BOOMING noise followed, as it detonated.

"Dead Wrong."


	7. 6 In Love And War

In Love And War 

        Static walked through the mansion, taking the scenic route to Jean's Med lab.  Actually, though given instructions by several people, he was quite lost.  This place was more than huge, it was phenomenally huge… with corridors and stairways and doors and even MORE corridors in every direction.  Had it not been for the intricate original decorations that adorned every inch of the palatial estate, he would've surely been walking in circles right now.  Almost giving up, he spotted some students heading into a classroom.  "Somebody's got to know where these freaking Med labs are!"  He waited until the teacher finished the roll call, and then knocked on the door.  

        "Come in", said the male teacher's voice.

        Static steeped in through the doorway, silencing all student chatter almost instantly.  All eyes were on him.  The teacher of this class was the mutant called Cyclops of the X-Men.  He remembered Logan describing him as a boy scout, but a real prick.  The two seconds of silence seemed more like 2 years.  Removing his blue Dakota Bulls visor (which made his mop like dreadlocks droop around his head), Static focused on Cyclops, and asked, "Ummm… Can…. somebody tell me how to get to the Med labs?"

        Scott Summers had seen many curious things in his life: mutants, mutant killers, bonafide monsters… but NOTHING could've prepared him for the sheer speed and ferocity of Jubilee as she shot up from her desk, ran (more like hurdled) over her fellow students, went the front of the class, and blurted out, "Mr. Summers, IcanShowhimHowtoGetthere. PleasepleaseLetmetakeHimtotheMedlabs.  Iwon'tTakelongtogetback, I promise!"   Scott's mouth just stayed wide open.  He wondered how this girl could speak so much without stopping to breathe.  He concluded it must be part of her mutation.  He noticed Static's face brighten when the boy realized that Jubilee was in the classroom.  Mustering all the years of experience in dealing with adolescents at his disposal, Scott Summers made the only logical strategic decision possible…

        "Marie", he said pointing to Rogue, "You go ahead and show him to the Med labs.  Jubilee...", he said now focusing on the Asian girl (who was glaring at him with what could only be described as desperation mixed with Logan-level hatred), "get back to your seat… NOW."  Static's face dropped as he watched Marie get up from her seat and walk to the front of the class.  As she passed Jubilee, who was stomping her way back to her seat, they made eye contact.  

Jubilee mouthed the words "please".  Marie knew what she meant.  Grill Static for all pertinent info and report to an official Jubilee debriefing later after classes.  Marie walked past Static and to the front door.  She motioned for him to come with her, which he did, but stared at Jubilee all the way out of the room. After he and Marie walked out.  Scott Summers began his History lesson. As he went on and on (and on) about the Battle of Britain, Kitty slipped Jubilee a clandestine note.  Jubilee opened it up (like the note-pro she is) without making so much as the slightest sound.  The note read: "Gee, somebody's OBVIOUS!  Do you actually like him?"

Jubilee sat pensively for a moment, trying to look like she cared about Winston Churchill, or whatever Scott was droning on about, and answer Kitty's note at the same time.  As she scribbled her response, Kitty waited patiently, as did the three young men sitting behind her: Bobby Drake, Sam Guthrie, and St. John Allerdyce.  Actually, St. John was the most interested in her response, as he normally was about ANYTHING dealing with Jubilee.  He had worked for months to make sure the word around school (with the male population) was "Jubilee is HIS – BACK OFF".  For the most part, everyone (especially the male population) assumed they'd end up together, everyone except Jubilee that is.  Not that St. John wasn't a great catch, but the idea of having her life planned out for her was as appealing to Jubilee as having to sit through a four hour Scott Summers lecture on rhino mating habits. 

Kitty grabbed the note and held back a screech when she read.  It took every ounce of strength inside her to keep herself from bursting into a superhuman display of mutant giggles.  The note read: "OBVIOUS WAS THE POINT GIRL!  And Yes, I think I like him.  He's soooo cute… in a Kobe Bryant kind of way!  What do you think?"  Bobby peeked over her shoulders and read the note and copied it down for St. John.  The mutant, who would one day be known to the world as "Pyro", read the copy and clenched his teeth.  His eyes could hardly focus on the paper.  He crumpled it quickly in his fist, and raised his hand.

"Mr. Summers, may I be excused for a moment… ummm… nature calls?"  St. John could hardly mask the hardness in his voice.  He looked visibly distressed, which Scott mistook for the sincerity of his sudden "emergency".  With a nod from the X-Men's field commander, St. John nearly sprinted out of the classroom, and closed the door.  Instead of going to the bathroom… he headed over to the Rec Room.  St. John felt like burning something, maybe that's why some of his friends think he's a pyromaniac.  He walked over to the billiards table, and found Logan playing by himself.  "May I join you sir?"

"Hmm?" Logan looked up and feigned surprise, since his superhuman senses warned him about the intruder, and even as to St. John's stress levels.  "Sure kid.  And don't call me sir."

"Sure thing dude."

"Oh hell no… go back to sir!"  Logan set up to break again and gave St. John a pool cue.  He let St. John break, and sized up the kid as "not all that bad".  After a few minutes of shooting around, Logan piped up, "What's eatin' ya kid?  You just skipped class, a major nut-crushing no-no in this school.  For what, to improve on 8-ball?

"I was just bored in class…"

"Don't bullsh*t a bullsh*ter kid.  I can read you like a book, and right now you're wound up real tight." Logan was, as usual, right on the money.  This was St. John's only shot at opening up.  With Logan, you don't get more than one.

"Well, it's these ghetto guys you brought back from that Dakota?"  St. John was already feeling his anger come back to the fore.

"What about 'em?  They ain't been here for what… one day?"

"I know, but they got the girls talking all morning about them.  Before we went to breakfast, that's ALL they could talk about.  And then AFTER breakfast, they're passing notes the whole time!"

"So", Logan asked, "what's any of that got to do with you burn-boy?"

"It's just that, well… it was like this: Marie was writing all that stuff about that dude who could touch her, right?  And then this mop-top ghetto-boy comes stompin' into our class and Jubilee goes ape-sh*t!  I don't get it man.  What's this guy got that I don't, aside from an arrest record?"  Logan had stopped listening to St. John after he heard the words "dude who could touch (Marie)".  In all the excitement since last night, he almost forgot about that little episode during their battle in Dakota.  Actually, he didn't think about it at all.  But what's this about Marie talking about it all night with her friends? And writing notes about it in class?  Maybe it bothered her that the creep kissed her… or… No!  It must've bothered her.  St. John was going on about Jubilee or something, but Logan wasn't paying anymore attention.  

"Hey kid, I just remembered that I got to go find someone, talk to you later."  And with that, Logan swiftly exited the Rec Room, leaving a bewildered St. John Allerdyce behind, and in mid-sentence.

"Some adult counselor!  The guy doesn't even listen."  St. John just kept playing billiards by himself.  He was in NO mood to see Jubilee or Kitty or any of mutant high's denizens at the moment.

***********

Marie and Static made their way to Jean's Med Lab in a rather leisurely pace.  Static figured that Marie took her time so as not to have to go back to class.  Marie, though, had other motives.  This was the perfect time to get info on Mr. Unbreakable,… and his friends of course!  Right.  This was for the good of the team.  Now if she just repeated that to herself over and over MAYBE she might just believe it.  "Ummm, Static, or Virgil…?"

"Virgil is fine."

"Ok, Virgil", she stammered, "How long have you been in that gang?"

"Not long.  In fact, I didn't meet any of those guys until AFTER the Big Bang."

"You weren't in some gang before that riot?"  Marie could see Static's face go blank for a moment, like he was remembering something that wasn't pleasant for him.  She'd seen this kind of look before on Logan, whenever he remembered some piece of his tattered past.

"No I wasn't." Static said. "Actually, I ain't even from Paris Island like them. My family stays up on Saddler."

"Then what made you go down there?  Logan described the Big Bang as some kind of gang riot-war."

"It was worse than that", Static's eyes began to tear up.  He quickly gained his composure, as Marie placed a gloved hand on his shoulder.  "I was there cuz o' the BAD advice of a friend."

Marie noticed his pause.  Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but she pressed the issue anyway.  Jubilee was going to kill her if she didn't get the inside scoop on this guy.  "I don't understand.  I thought the Big Bang was all about thugs and criminals…"

"Yeah it was", said Static, "but I wasn't ever about that stuff.  I was always gettin' punked in school by this dude who was going to be at the Big Bang. So a friend of mine gave me a trey and told me that the Bang would be a perfect place to cap his a$$ once and for all." Static noticed the blood drain from Marie's face.  She even took a slight step away from him – an unconscious reaction to the thought of walking next to a murderer.  Reading her reaction correctly, Static answered, "No Marie, it's not what you're thinkin'.  I didn't do it".  Marie let out a breath.  "I've never been about that.  As soon as I got to Paris Island I knew I wasn't going to do it.  That ain't me. It's not right.  Anyway, when the gas came, I ran like everybody else, and I tripped over some live wires from a downed power-line."

"And that's how you got your powers?"

"Well, I had already been hit with the gas, so it had to be the gas.  I was electrocuted and blacked out. When I woke up, I was Battery-Powered!" Marie chuckled at the joke, and Static smiled back at her.  There were things he wanted to know about her and the X-men, which he would ask Professor X later.  But having Marie here presented him an opportunity to ask about a particular Asian student whom he suddenly was preoccupied with.  Before he could ask about Jubilee, Marie cut in…

"How well do you know Wise-Son… and the other guys too?"  This is for the team Marie, she thought.

"Wise?"

"Yeah, like how did you guys meet and stuff?  What's his real name?"  Static noticed how Marie wasn't asking about THEIR real names… just Wise-Son's – he filed THAT little detail away in his mind.  

"Wise's real name is Hannibal.  But nobody calls him that but his Momma and his family."  Marie thought about that name: Hannibal.  She mused about how it fit a leader.  "Wise also has a cute little 8 year old sister, Cordelia, and then there's Edmund… he's about 2 or 3 now." 

"Does his little brother look like him at all?"

"Brother?" said Static, surprised.  "No, no girl.  Edmund is Wise' little boy.  Wise-Son has a son!"  Marie couldn't help but stand there, mouth agape.  He has a son, she thought.  He is a parent, and he's so young.  And he must have a girlfriend, or a wife, or a... something!  That bastard!  None of her business anyway right?  And why did it matter to her WHAT this criminal's personal life was like anyhow… 

Static noticed the sudden silence and pensiveness. He decided to continue waxing on about Wise-Son's family.  "Wise' mom takes care of little Eddie cuz his momma got killed in a drive-by."  Marie looked up.

"You mean, Wise doesn't have a girlfriend?"  Oh My GOODNESS – HOW DID THAT SOUND MARIE, she thought to herself.  Here Static was just telling her that the mother of Wise-Son's 2-yr-old was killed, and the first thing you say is whether or not he's seeing anyone?!?!  "Ummm, that's not how I meant to say that!  I mean, I was asking if his girlfriend was dead."

"Yeah, she's dead." Static said, "but I think they broke up way before then.  Anyhow, Edmund is all Wise lives for.  That's why he formed Blood Syndicate, to make things right.  I joined up when Holocaust asked me because I was already doing my own little 'hero' thing.  At first I wasn't going to join them, but Wise told me they'd be cleaning up Paris Island."

"And how do you do that by robbing banks?" said Marie – referring to the footage that most of America saw on CNN.

"See? That's just media bullsh*t", replied Static. "We were STOPPING those bank robbers.  The police just TURNED on us too.  They started shooting at us.  That's when things got out of hand.  Later, the news said WE were the ones robbing the bank.  Can you believe that crap?"

"Yeah, we X-Men don't always get good press because we're mutants."

"Yeah, but you're WHITE mutants, and live large in a mansion.  If you don't use your powers, nobody knows the difference. People don't assume that you're going to rob them, or cops don't assume you're going to kill them…"

"Well, Static…", Marie wasn't too familiar with any racism or stuff like that, but mutant discrimination was VERY familiar to her.  "I don't know much about racial stuff, but I can tell you that being mutant works the same way for many of us.  I mean, I understand what you said about being able to hide it, but that's impossible for some of us.  And when we use our powers, we got to leave the area or most people will try to hurt us."

"Yeah", Static agreed, "It's like Holly's always sayin': All around the world's the same song!"  

"Yeah, whatever that means." Marie laughed. "But I mean, you guys seem to still hang with regular people. How come they don't fear you?"

"Oh please… black folks got no problem with mutants! At least not in Paris Island." 

"Not all those guys were black, Static."

"Well, whatever." Static said.  "In the hood, nobody sees bang-babies as different than anybody else.  I mean, if you were a mom or dad, and your kid survived the Big Bang, would you care if they could fly now?  Same goes for everybody's friends and homies and stuff."

"See, that's even better than being a mutant", Marie said, turning Static's earlier point back on him. "You guys don't have to hide your powers, and your families, friends, and neighbors accept you for who you are.  You're still you, but with super-powers.  Most of us mutants had to run away from homes or were kicked out by our own families.  Same song right?"

"Yeah", said Static, "the whole world's a ghetto."  Marie and Static finally arrived at the Med Lab.  Jean was going over some burned tissue samples she removed from Ororo, who was there with her.  That woman is FINE, Static thought as he looked at Ororo.  In fact, he thought, they're BOTH hotties.  Marie bowed out and left to what he assumed was her class.  Static just stood at the doorway, not sure as to how to greet women he was trying to maim and kill the night before.  "Wassup ladies?"  Jean and Ororo turned around and looked at the youthful Syndicate member.  Ororo unconsciously rubbed the back of her head – a reaction from the smack she incurred fighting Static.  Jean seemed fine, and she walked forward to greet the young man.

"Hello Static, I know you know me, since we talked earlier today, but you don't know Ororo", she said, motioning for Ororo to come forward.  Ororo stepped forward and extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you.  I'm Ororo Munroe, and you?"

"Virgil Hawkins.  Ya'll can call me Virgil, or Virg, or whatever.  Except Nerd! I hate being called that."  Ororo smiled at the young man.  It's too bad they had to meet under such circumstances.  "Look, I'm really sorry about hurting you, so is Wise.  We didn't know that you guys weren't there to kill us.  That's all people have been trying to do since the Big Bang."

"You won't find that here", said Ororo. "The X-Men and Professor X are trying to bridge the gap between humans and mutants, so we can live together in peace."

"Lady, I ain't talking about mutant wars…", replied Static, "I'm talking about cops, and feds, and stuff trying to bust a cap in every Bang baby they can find.  N*ggaz who can fly are not popular with the authorities."  Ororo couldn't really relate to everything he was saying.  Being a mutant, her powers became the source of her problems with humans.  She never really considered her race as being an issue with the people around her, especially the X-Men.  But, she admitted, some of the newer students would take a little more time to warm up to her than to the other teachers. She always figured it was her own aloofness. 

"Well Virgil", Jean said, "No one is going to try to hurt you here.  I just want to run some tests on you, and give you a general checkup… maybe even some vaccines if you're lacking any – you can never be too careful with tons of kids running around here."  Jean went to work and Ororo left the Med Lab.  For the next 2 hours, Static submitted to any and every test that Jean suggested.  His cooperation was a welcome change from even some of the X-Men (Logan) who always questioned her every procedure.  She had a chance to speak to him about his upbringing, and discovered that Virgil Hawkins was extremely intelligent – maybe beyond that.  She mentally contacted the Professor, who ran a school record check on him, and found that Virgil Hawkins was a straight A student, and had been since grade school.  The Professor mentally told Jean to have the young man report to his office when the tests were completed.

***********

        Logan searched through the mansion's spacious surroundings in search of his prey.  He went through almost every corridor inside the colossal structure.  Sensing that this would be fruitless, he expanded his search to include the outer perimeter of the property as well.  After an hour and a half of total failure, he spotted his query – Wise-Son.  Wise-Son was playing basketball with Holocaust and Commando X, and they looked to be locked in a serious competition.  Logan stalked up it the far edge of the basketball court, and whistled for Wise-Son to come over.  A very surprised Wise-Son passed the ball to Holocaust, and the two other Syndicate members started playing straight up one-on-one basketball.  "What's up man?" Wise-Son said.

        "Nothing much", Logan answered, low growl in his voice.  "I just got one request for you though."

        "Request?" Wise-Son had a vague feeling he knew what it was about.  "What kind of request?"

        "For as long as you're here, stay away from Marie… you know, the girl you kissed."  Logan spoke the last four words through clenched teeth.  

        Wise-Son's eyes narrowed.  Who was this man thinking he could come here and give HIM an order?  He suppressed his initial two mental responses, and opted for something more civil (considering that he didn't want to leave the mansion after just one day).  "Why?  Is there anything wrong with her?"

        "Nothing's wrong with her, she just don't need you hanging around her."

        "Let's get things straight now pa'tna'…", Wise-Son's agitation began to show in his voice, "Number one, nobody tells me what to do, and number two, the shorty already told me to back off, so this case is closed."

        Logan exhaled deeply then raised his eyes to meet Wise-Son's.  "It had better be…. 'pa'tna'!"  And with that, he turned and left, heading back to the mansion… to go wait for Marie to finish classes.  Wise-Son seethed a little at the audacity of someone actually giving HIM an order.  It was anathema to him.  He stomped back to the mansion as well, also to seek Marie and set her straight – since he figured it was Marie who sent this Logan guy after him.  

************

Static sat in the Professor's office, as the Professor perused something on his computer screen.  The Professor made a few "Uh-hmmm" noises, but that's about it.  Just when Static was about to go crazy, Professor X spoke up.  "My dear boy, how have you liked your first few hours here at the mansion?"

"Just fine, ya'll got a pretty nice place."  Static was feeling like he was in the principal's office back at Sadler High. 

"Did you know that we are one of the highest rated private academic institutions in the State, and even the country?  We're fully accredited, and have had many of our students graduate and get accepted to all the top universities in the nation."

"That's cool.", Static said, "But uhhh… sir?  If you don't mind my askin'…?"

"No, of course not", replied the Professor, "ask away."

"Why are you tellin' me all this?"

"Because I've been looking at your school records Virgil Hawkins.  And it seems that you are quite remarkable!"  Now Static DEFINITELY felt like he was back in his principal's office.  "Don't be alarmed, I've run a background check on ALL of you Syndicate members using your photos.  And I've taken the liberty of arranging for a document excusing you from Sadler High classes for a 2-week period to deal with a "family emergency"."

"Thanks sir.  I don't know if we'll stay here that long, though."

"That's actually what I wanted to speak with you about, young man."  The Professor wheeled his chair around his desk and came right up to Static.  "Mr. Hawkins, I would like you to consider attending this School for the Gifted on a permanent basis."

"WHAT!?!  You gotta be kidding me!"

"I am not kidding Mr. Hawkins.  Your scholastics record would more than warrant an offer from our school, but it is the chance to help you hone your powers that make you an exemplary candidate for attendance."  Professor X leaned in close to Static.  "Son, you have a wonderful gift, regardless of how you got it, and you could do the world a lot of good.  I have read online newspaper articles from the Dakota Tribune's website, and I see that you already have fashioned yourself into some type of hero."

"Well, I do my best… when I'm not handling Syndicate business, that is."  

"Yes", the Professor continued, "Well, it's that interest in the good of others that peaks my interest in YOU.  You already want to help humanity, and we would like to help you do that.  In fact dear boy, there is an evil mutant with powers similar to yours, and someday you may be the only one who can handle him, or negate his advantages."  Charles Xavier's mind briefly focused on his old friend, and current enemy, Erik Lensherr (Magneto). "I'd like you to think about this offer seriously.  It could mean a whole new life for you."

Static was in shock (no pun intended).  His brief visit to the mansion could become a pivotal life changing event.  He had to consider this carefully.  There was so much he'd be missing about his current life if he left Dakota.  His Mom and his sister (Ok, maybe not his sister), the Blood Syndicate, Sadler High, all his friends, Freida Goren (his on-again/ off-again crush and best friend)… but then look at what he'd be gaining: a chance to really train and hone his skills, a stable environment with no crime or mayhem, a likely opportunity to join the X-Men (some guys with their acts together for a change), and Jubilee.  Make no mistake about it, Jubilee was the best reason to stay here at the moment.  

************

        It was just before dinner time that Wise-Son ran into Marie in the hallway.  Though he gave up his anger-induced search for her hours ago, he silently thanked God that he found her.  "Marie, why did you send your thug Logan after me?"

        "What? What are you talking about?"  Marie had already had the strangest conversation with Logan a few hours earlier, not a loving and intimate one like their usual talks, but more… more possessive and strained.  "Has every man in this place flipped out today?"

        "Your man Logan came to tell me to stay away from you."

        Is that why Logan was acting so strange, she thought.  She reminded herself to kill Logan later and answered Wise-Son.  "Hannibal, I didn't send him after you.  He did that on his own."

        "Hannibal?", Wise-Son looked at her quizzically.  "How do you know my real name?"  

        "Virgil told me", Marie answered, "I hope you didn't mind if I call you that."

        "No that's ok", replied Wise-Son, who reminded himself to kill Static later.  "What else did he tell you about me?", he said – bracing for the worst.

        "He said you've got a cute little sister, and wonderful mother, and…", Marie paused, "A son who looks his daddy."  Wise-Son could've sworn he saw something like compassion in Marie's eyes.  "He told me about your girlfriend, your son's Mom.  I'm sorry."

        Wise-Son looked away for a brief moment.  He thought of Simone, and her untimely end. "It's ok.  There was nothing I could do for her.  She was runnin' with a rough set called "Sociedad De La Cruz", Society of the Cross. They dealt in guns and things.  Stuff just came back to haunt her."

        "Do you miss her?"

        "To tell you the truth", Wise-Son replied, "She and I broke up before I even knew she was pregnant with Edmund.  I don't think I ever really loved her, and actually she made a terrible mother.  Her momma, who was worse than her, was glad to hand over custody of Edmund to me after Simone died.  He was only 10 months old at the time."  Marie listened on intently as Wise-Son explained how Edmund was his reason for living (just like Static said).  Making Dakota safe was his secret reason for forming the Blood Syndicate – a secret that only himself, Fade, Static, and Rev. Tat Larsen were aware of… and now Marie.  He explained how Rev. Larsen sought him out at his mother's house after the Big Bang, and talked to him on a daily basis for almost two months.  They debated Larsen's Jesus against Wise-Son's Mohammed, and despite their theological disagreements, they came to the conclusion that Wise-Son's unique and extraordinary powers gave him a unique and extraordinary responsibility.  It wasn't long after that, that he began recruiting bang babies to form a super-powered gang – first within the Paris Bloods, and then with most of the most powerful bang babies throughout Dakota's gangs.  When he was done with his diatribe, Marie saw Wise-Son in a different light.  He didn't seem like the murderous thug that she faced last night, but like a battle-hardened general, fighting for his family and for the good of others – albeit misguidedly.  

        "Wise", Marie said.

        "Hannibal's fine…", Wise-Son interrupted.

        "Hannibal… Professor X can help you and the others.  He trains mutants to learn more about their powers and to use them better.  Maybe he'll let you come back here from time to time… to train and stuff."

        "You think so?"

        "I know so.  He already asked Static to stay and attend school here!" Oooops.  Static and Jubilee had sworn her to secrecy under penalty of electrocution.  Wise-Son's eyes widened for a second, then narrowed… as if thinking of something.

        "That's why he was acting all weird", said Wise-Son, "the kid's got a lot on his mind.  Well, I'm not going to interfere with his decision, or let anybody ELSE interfere either (Holocaust and Commando X)."

        "Thanks Hannibal", Marie was getting used to using his real name.  It seemed intimate.  WAIT MARIE!  Intimate is not something you should be feeling with anyone but Logan.  But this time, Marie silenced that voice (which sounded a lot like Logan's), and let herself feel good about talking with Wise-Son.  He was a refreshing change to Logan: the man who couldn't express himself, and wasn't sure what he felt for her.  "See you at dinner." And she did something that she never in her life thought she would ever do until she met this man:  she leaned into him and kissed his cheek.  Again, due to her inexperience, and the new sensation of actually touching another person, skin to skin, she lingered on his cheek for a moment.  She then backed up a little slowly, but smiling all the way.  As she was walking down the hallway, Wise-Son cracked a sideways smile as well.  He just shook his head, and headed back to his room and his homies.

****************

        After dinner, three of the Blood Syndicate members headed to their room for some relaxing NBA Playoffs watching and some downtime.  When they entered the room, they saw Static sitting on is bed, reading a note.  If Wise-Son and Holocaust didn't know better, they'd have thought that Static had been crying.  "What's up homie?  You look like stir-fried sh*t." asked Commando X, in his usual compassionate manner.

        "This is what's up", replied Static, and handed Commando X the note he had been reading.  "I found it stuck on our door.  It was addressed to me personally."  Commando X read the note, and his facial features took on a darkness and evil to them that made him appear nearly demonic in visage.  He slowly passed the note to Wise-Son, who read it along with Holocaust.  Both their faces stiffened up, and Holocaust caused the paper to burst into flames and disintegrate in Wise-Son's hand.  The note had read: STAY AWAY FROM OUR GIRLS YOU ELECTRIC MONKEY.  GO BACK TO WHEREVER THE F*CK YOU CAME FROM.

        "Somebody's gonna die for this", said Holocaust matter-of-factly. "Maybe ALL of them."

        "F*ck YEAH!", chimed in Commando X. "I say we cap ALL these CRACKA b*tches right f*cken NOW!  Holly, just go nuclear on these muthaf*ckaz while I blow this sh*t up!"

        "Hold up man", said Wise-Son.

        "Wise, back da F*CK up", shot back Commando X, "You CAN'T let this sh*t slide!"

        "Watch who you're talking to X… I'm not gonna let this sh*t  slide", Wise-Son said passively, "But I want to know what Static wants to do about it."  Walking over to Static, he sat on the bed next to him and asked, "Virgil, how do you want us to handle this?"

        "That's just it Wise…", said Static.  "I want to be the one to deal with it.  My way!  Ok?"

        "Ok, fine, but what do you have in mind?"

        "I got an idea to show these bastards that I won't be intimidated."  Static picked up the phone and called Jubilee's, Kitty's, and Marie's room.  When Kitty answered the phone, he could hear crying in the background.  When Jubilee got on the phone, she frantically explained (between sobs) that someone had left her a similar note on her room door.  Static calmed her down, assuring her that these notes were the acts of cowards, and asked her if she trusted him.  After a bit of soul-searching, Jubilee decided to trust him indeed.  He told her to meet him in 5 minutes down at the Rec Room, and to follow his lead.  Static hung up the phone, turned to his fellow gang members and said, "I'm going down to the Rec Room, don't follow me.  I want to do this alone." He then walked out of the room, leaving behind some VERY pissed off gang members.

        "Wise", said Holocaust, "I KNOW you ain't gonna let this slide are you my n*gga?"

        "Hell no", said Wise-Son, which brought a smile to Commando X's face.  "Let's let Static deal with his FEELINGS on his own… but make no mistake pa'tna's, payback ain't no b*tch.  These fool's bout to find out that payback's a mutha-f*cken n*gga!"

        "I feel ya man", Commando X agreed, "I feel ya."

        "Peep this X, Holly", Wise-Son continued, "We're gonna find out who did this to Static, and we're gonna make those mutha-f*ckaz bow down.  They're gonna BEG us to kill 'em."  And that got nothing but approval from his fellow Syndicate members.

        "That's what the Blood Syndicate is all about", said Commando X, "makin' this world a better place."

        "Yeah, making this world better", said Holocaust, "one dead mutha-f*cka at a time!"  The gang members settled into their NBA playoff routine, which consisted of hooting, screaming, and yelling at the TV set for the refs to start calling fouls on Shaquille O'Neal.  

************

        Static made his way down to the Rec Room.  His thoughts were everywhere, and most of them had to do with causing a huge electrical storm that would've killed everyone in the mansion.  But his thoughts also fell upon Jubilee, and that suppressed all his violent impulses as fast as they arose.  He opened the door, and found the room full of students, most watching the NBA playoffs, yelling at the refs to call fouls on Shaquille O'Neal, and even two of the school's teachers: Scott Summers and Dr. jean Grey.  The two of them were in the love seat looking every bit in love.  He then spotted Marie over by the billiard table, along with Kitty and Jubilee, who tried to look her best like she hadn't been stabbed in the back by someone in the school.  Over the phone she had told Static that her heart was broken, that this school didn't feel like a safe sanctuary anymore.  Static motioned for her to come over to him, and she did just that.  When she was close to him, he placed his hands on her shoulders, then gently on her face, and leaned in close to her.  She placed her hands on his waist, and then up his back, tightening into an embrace.  Virgil Hawkins, a.k.a. Static, then pressed his lips softly against hers.  At first touch, Jubilee's mind exploded with emotion, and she returned his kiss, passionately.  She had never kissed anyone like that, and this kiss had all the pent up feelings that a crying spell and a fit of rage could produce.  The room became silent, with scattered gasps and awes… until Scott Summers aptly said, "Well… it looks like SOMEONE has made himself at home here." Jean nudged him in the ribs, smiling wickedly.

        "That give you any ideas honey?", she asked.

        "A few… but can it wait until half-time?", he answered back jokingly.  Jean sent him a mental image of what she had in mind,  and Scott blushed, excused himself to the students, grabbed Jean's hand and walked out of the Rec Room with her in tow – VERY quickly. In all that time, Static and Jubilee were still in their embrace, in plain sight of everyone - their heads resting on each other's shoulders.  Jubilee was still silently sobbing, while Static caressed her hair softly. 

        "I'll be your safety", he whispered into her little ear.  "I'll be your sanctuary.  I'm not leaving you here.  I'm staying… for good!"

à To be concluded in TWO more chapters: "Vengeance Is Mine" and "All Good Things…"


	8. 7 The Hard Way

***Author's Note***:  This is _not_ the next chapter in the X-Syndicate story - titled "_Vengeance is Mine_" - but instead an epilogue to the previous chapter.  It covers events and conversations that occurred during the same 1 1/2 day period from the previous chapter.  It's shorter than the usual, but I hope it's enough to satiate a certain "soldier" until the next chapter is up…. The Hard Way 

****

        The Xavier School for the Gifted is nestled in the quiet hills of Westchester, New York.  A pristine locale with a rich heritage: finely manicured lawns giving way to Victorian era buildings and architecture.  Traces of the modern world dotted the school's outer landscape.  Among these contemporary hints was a professional-quality basketball court.  The sounds of young people engaging in athletic competition were commonplace at this site… but that was normally during the day, not at 2:00 AM in the middle of the night.  At this ungodly hour, four young men were playing a game that was half-finesse, half pugilism.  Michael Naismith himself, inventor of basketball, wouldn't have recognized it.  These guys turned an indoor recreational activity into an intense blood sport… with prerequisite death threats filling the night sky – from a _CD-boombox_, that is.

****
    
    **_OH NO… The fight's out_**
    
    **_I'm about to punch yo lights out_**
    
    **_Get the F**K back, guard ya grill_**
    
    **_There's somethin' wrong, we can't stay still,_**
    
    **_I've been drankin…' and bustin' too_**
    
    **_And, I been thinkin' of bustin' you_**
    
    **_Up…side ya motherf**kin' forehead_**
    
    **_And if your friends jump in, "Ohhh girrlll", they'll be mo' dead_**
    
    **_Causin' confusion, Disturbin Tha Peace_**
    
    **_Since this no illusion, we runnin' tha streets_**
    
    **_So bye-bye to all you groupies and golddiggers_**
    
    **_Is there a bumper on your ass? NO NIGGA!_**
    
    **_I'm doin' a hundred on the highway…_**
    
    **_So if you doin' speed limit, get the F**K outta my way_**
    
    **_I'm D.U.I., hardly ever caught sober_**
    
    **_ - and you about to get ran the F**K over…_**

        "That music is loud and obnoxious", said Scott Summers as he rubbed his temples. Why did his room have to be facing the basketball courts?  He should've realized someday there would be somebody playing out there at all hours of the night keeping him up.  This wasn't an issue before, since the school had a lights out policy of 10:30PM on weeknights.  

        "I think it's Ludacris honey", Jean said, resting a hand on his shoulder and smiling.

        "Ludicrous?  More like ridiculous to me!"

        "No, Ludacris… he's a rapper from Atlanta."

        "Jean", Scott's mouth was agape in shock, "Please don't tell me you listen to that garbage…"

        Jean giggled and pulled him into a light hug, "No silly… I heard that from the girls.  But I think Ororo listens to some of that stuff.  Some of it is Ok actually."  

Scott winced at the thought of regal Ororo in big baggy pants, hats, and gold teeth… she'd kind of look like that girl from that movie  "B.A.P.S.", he thought.  Shaking that image out of his mind he leaned in close to Jean and whispered "I'm going downstairs to get something from the kitchen, you want anything?"

"Just whip-cream, and hurry back."  Scott pursed his lips, giving her a quizzical look, and then smiled broadly as he realized what her request meant.

"You bet I'll hurry…" And the man literally jumped over the bed and ran out the door.  Jean looked a little confused herself.

"I just wanted some whip-cream because I had those little deserts in our mini-fridge…" She then caught a whiff of HIS thoughts… She let out a short gasp, and then a broad smile spread on HER face.  "Please hurry back Mr. Summers", she told Scott mentally.

Scott hurried indeed. He was down in the kitchen in four minutes flat – a new record.  He walked to the cupboard and retrieved a mug.  He went over to the refrigerator, opened the door and reached for the whip-cream…  then couldn't remember what ELSE he came downstairs for.  When he closed the refrigerator door, his grin faded.  Logan was standing in the doorway, arms folded, leaning against the door frame.  "Whatcha doin' One-Eye?"

"Ummm, just preparing a little snack of Jean… I mean a snack FOR Jean… and Me.  Jean and Me.  Me and Jean.  I got to go now."  Before Logan could say a word, Scott bolted past him, and down the hallway.  

"Sex in the air."  Logan chuckled inwardly.  He had come to the kitchen to escape the racket outside. His heightened senses were going crazy from all the cussing and noises - and that was just from the other awakened mansion residents.  As he sat down on the table, a wave of fatigue washed over him.  He hadn't gotten that much sleep since the day before, and last night he was going toe to toe with those murderous bastards… errrrr… murderous GUEST bastards.  Healing factor or not, he was needing some sleep.  Problem was that his senses couldn't allow him to sleep because of the basketball noises and music. 

"Mind if I join you?"  Logan whirled around to see Ororo walking in – wearing a white silk robe that matched her white hair.  Logan nodded as she walked over to the refrigerator and got some milk.  She began to warm it and then sat down at the kitchen table across from Logan.  "Can't sleep either?"

"It's that damn basketball noise!  Can't you hear it?"

"I can't hear it from my room.  I came down because I was feeling some discomfort.  That emergency surgery didn't take away all the pain."  Ororo winced a little as she settled in her chair, her hands instinctively reaching for her abdomen.  Logan's hand shot out too, resting on her abdomen gently as if she were carrying a baby.  He cursed silently at the fire-wielding gangster who burned some of the X-Men's internal organs.

"You shouldn't have been there 'Ro.  Marie neither.  it was too dangerous."

"Logan, I am a fully trained member of this team.  And besides, nothing could've stopped me from going.  I've been dying to see Dakota ever since the riots."

"Not much to see.  The place was a hell-hole before the riots, and it hasn't changed any since."

"Logan, how can you say that?  Innocent people were killed in those riots, and the gas you described was mostly to blame."  For Ororo, Dakota's Big Bang riot was a point of contention between her and the other X-Men.  It was Ororo that wanted to rush to Dakota to stop the riots, and then to help in the Red Cross relief efforts.  But at every turn, some more pressing "mutant" matter came up.  And then she was told it just wasn't their problem.  At one point, she even argued vehemently with Scott that the X-Men would've gone to help a more affluent city (code for "whiter").  Scott, alongside Jean and the Professor, assured her that this wasn't the case, but she never really believed them 100%.

"Ororo", Logan replied, "I was there remember?  These guys were killing each other LONG before the gas came. Those gangs were trying to kill each other for nothing more than drug money and turf before that gas hit.  The gas was bad, but it just turned some evil guys into evil guys with mutant powers."

"But do you think they would've used an untested gas on people from a richer background?"  Ororo looked at Logan incredulously.

"That's the ticket 'Ro", Logan continued, "Rich folks don't have Big Bangs."  Ororo watched Logan as he got up and left the kitchen table.  She sat pensively for a while, sipping her warm milk.  It soothed her stomach somewhat, and she too slipped back upstairs, back to her restive slumber.

***********

        It was mid-morning, and Jean Grey had just finished her tests on the gang member called Static.  He was so cooperative and sweet with her, trying to hide his nervousness with humor.  She could hardly believe that this young man was the same kid who just last night was part of a group that tried to kill them.  It actually made her a little uncomfortable – that they could have such a mental and moral disconnect between their actions last night and their demeanor at the mansion.  Granted, the entire mess was a massive misunderstanding… but it was still a little unnerving to see these guys simply turn a mental "switch", and suddenly everything's fine.  "That's not stable", she thought to herself.  "It can't be done that quick."

        She prepared to her lab for the other gang members who had begrudgingly accepted to come see her.  By about noon, Commando X came in, eyeing her suspiciously.  She tried to have some conversation with him, bit all he did was nod, and shake his head.  Finally, she took out a needle, and he said, "Aw hell naww!  You ain't stickin' me with that!"

        "But how else can I draw a blood sample?"

        "F*ck a blood sample!  Why you need blood from me?"

        "To see what changes have been made to your physiology.."  
        "My what?"

        "You're…", Jean gave out an exasperated breathe, "That gas changed you, but it killed other people.  It may even be killing you slowly right now and you don't even know it.  Did you ever think of that?"

        "Now you soundin' like Fade.  He talks sh*t like that all the time."

        "This Fade is a smart man.  Wasn't he the one who stopped us from fighting?"

        "Yeah that's him."  Commando X sat up and stuck out his arm for Jean to draw blood.  "He's a ghost cuz o' the gas.  Just floatin' around and sh*t.  You know that if he doesn't use his powers, he just fades out?  That's some freaky sh*t!"

        "That's frightening", Jean said as she drew a blood sample, thankful that this test was the last.  "It'll take me a week to get all the results.  I'll let you know what we found by then."  She hurriedly put her instruments away, trying not to make eye-contact with the man who almost killed her last night.  

        As if reading her mind, Commando X said, "You know,… last night… that was business.  Ya'll came to the hood lookin' to bang the Syndicate…"

        "But we didn't.  That's what we tried to tell you before… (her mind rushed through the last night's event) before Wolverine threw the first punch… ohmyGod!"  Jean suddenly realized how that must've looked to them.  All their hasty words were overshadowed by Wolverine's aggression.  And to these guys, aggression apparently speaks louder than words or even kindness.  "Look, that wasn't what we came there to do. We just wanted to meet you and speak to you.  You have powers, but you may not be mutants, and that's a first."

        "Damn straight we ain't no mutants", Commando X got off the lab bed and put his jacket back on.  "Am I done?"

        "Yes you are.  You can go ahead and leave."  As he was walking out the door, she called out to him, "Mr. X?  Ummm, Commando?"

        "My name's Howell.  Howell Rice.  But now everybody calls me X."

        "Well, X", Jean said, "This isn't business for us.  It's personal.  The X-Men are fighting to make the world safer for mutants AND humans alike.  It's not just a job for us, it's our way of life.  We're not your enemies…"

        "Yeah, whatever.  No blood, no foul."  And with that, he headed out of the lab.  Jean wasn't looking forward to her next two clients – Holocaust and Wise-Son.  She was already exhausted, and these guys were hard to deal with.  Static was a welcome breath of fresh air, but even he took a little while to warm up to her.  

**********

        "So how were the tests?"  Professor Charles Xavier wheeled over next to Jean.  She was still in the lab, and it was way past the school's official dinner time.  Her absence from the night's meal was odd, since she rarely missed any corporate gatherings.  

        "Oh, hi Professor", she said turning around to greet him.  "I was just caught up with these findings."

        "Care to share, Ms. Grey?"  Professor Xavier smiled that whimsical half-smile that made his lips purse.  She smiled back and pulled a chair next to him.  He could see that she was beyond fatigued, but she made every mental effort to press on.

        "Professor, these results are astounding.  These men don't know the extent of their mutations!"

        "Really? How so?"

        "Well, calling them mutations is wrong.  Their cells don't have any trace of mutant genes in them."

        "Which explains why Cerebro couldn't detect them", Professor X surmised.  "Cerebro detects the mutant gene in humans, and helps us tract mutants, but I never thought that people could manifest powers WITHOUT them."

        "That's just it Professor", Jean said, handing him a copy of some preliminary lab results.  "Their powers are physiological, molecular, and even radioactive.  That gas made chemical changes to their bodies' chemical and molecular structure, but made no genetic changes.  And look at this…"  She handed him a folder labeled "Wise-Son".  

        He thumbed through the files, and his eyebrows arched.  "You mean to say that nothing could penetrate this young man's skin?  Even at the microscopic level?"

        "Yes Professor.  He was the hardest one to run tests on because I couldn't get a sample from him for anything.  Nothing worked.  I even tried a mental scan.  Nothing."

        "I too have tried to make mental contact with him and have failed.  What kind of change has occurred in him?"

        "Well Professor, I didn't get any results… until I tried this…" Jean handed Professor Xavier another stack of papers.

        "An electron-spectrograph?  Was this able to penetrate his skin?"

        "No Professor, but I was able to look at his outer molecular structure with it.  Wise-Son's molecular bonds are super-compact.  It seems that the gas added to his molecular structure, but at the SUB-atomic level.  No kind of radiation from the spectrograph could get through those bonds."

        "But how does that explain his ability to block our mental powers?"

        "That's a side effect.  Our powers work on normal physiological brains, but his brain, if it's like the rest of his body, has a seriously different sub-atomic structure. Our powers have some type of biological component to them that his brain just isn't compatible with."

        "Ms. Grey, this is all quite fascinating.  We need to discuss it with the group at the morning briefing tomorrow."  Professor Xavier placed the papers and files back on the lab table next to him.  "I have found some information of my own, after doing some background checks on these young men."

        "Background checks?"

        "Yes Ms. Grey.  You don't expect me to give these young men refuge, given their history, without knowing who we are dealing with, do you?"

        "No Professor, of course not."

        "It seems that some of our guests have EXTENSIVE criminal backgrounds, even including possible murders.  I have been mentally tracking our guests' whereabouts ever since I got wind of this information."

        "Oh my, Professor.  Are we in danger?"  The thought of another confrontation with these guys was not only disheartening, but made her fearful for the students as well.  

        "No Ms. Grey, I won't let it come to that.  Except for Wise-Son, they have no defenses against mental manipulation.  I can forcibly make them compliant if the need arises."

        "But what about Wise-Son?  He can do whatever he wants to, and his strength is at least six to seven times higher that a regular man."

        "Yes, he does pose a challenge, but he can be restrained if it's properly planned for.  No need to worry."  Professor Xavier wheeled out of the lab, "Good night Ms. Grey, please get some rest."

        "I will Professor, good night." Jean just packed up her stuff and finally left the lab, turning the lights out as she left.  Scott mentally contacted her and asked her to meet him down in the Rec hall.  He was the only one who could do that, since they were somehow mentally bonded.  It had something to do with their love for each other… but an emotional bond couldn't be it.  Jean had loved her family, and friends, and never had it affect her powers before.  There was something else there, and someday she would look into it – but not tonight.  Workday is over, and this one was done the hard way.


	9. 8 Vengeance Is Mine

Vengeance is Mine March 2002 

The phone rang four times before Wise-Son picked it up.  It was three in the morning, and though he really didn't need to sleep anymore he still did out of pure habit.  When he awoke, he wasn't groggy or weak, just suddenly awake.  The side effect of his new invulnerability was that he rarely ever entered REM sleep – which meant no more dreams.  He picked up the receiver and calmly said "Wassup?"  

The voice on the other end wasn't as calm as Wise-Son.  "Wise, we got trouble.  Big trouble here man!"  The Latin-accented voice was dripping with stress, and very haggard.  The speaker almost coughed the words out, breathing hurriedly between sentences.

"Fade?  What's happenin' man?  What's goin' down?"  Wise sat up on his bed now.  A million different scenarios ran through his mind.  Renegade bang-babies?  New gang wars?  Cordelia and Edmund?  No!  "Not that!" he thought, suppressing a sudden surge of fear for the people he cared about the most.  Anything that could rattle the ever-calm Fade HAD to be bad.

"It's Templo.  He's dead." The words hung in the air.  Then, for almost a minute, there was silence.  "Wise?  Did you hear me?  Templo's dead."

"I heard you", Wise-Son said.  The fear he briefly nursed had now been exiled, replaced with anger.  "What… happened?"

"It was **S**.**H**.**R**.**E**.**D**.!"

"Who the f*ck is SHRED?"

"**S**.**H**.**R**.**E**.**D**. man: **S**pecial **H**eavy-equipment **R**apid **E**mergency **D**ivision.  Those new anti-terrorist cops that the Feds set up in Dakota!"

"Anti-terror… BULL-SH*T!  They're there cuz of bang-babies!  I told you this sh*t was going to happen!  How'd it go down?  Are you ok?"

"I'm fine man, but we were attacked."  Fade can't be hurt by much, unless he is in solid form, which isn't often.  "They came in the night, about two hours ago, surrounded the building, and just started bustin' caps on everybody.  No warning.  Templo was the first one hit."  As Fade explained the details of the midnight raid on their apartment building, his usually soothing voice gained an edge of menace to it.  Wise-Son could feel the young man's rage even over the phone.  The words dropped out of Fade's mouth like stone bricks, painting a very bloody picture in Wise-Son's mind.  "DMZ and Third-Rail covered everybody's escape.  Those S.H.R.E.D. _cabrones_ were NOT prepared for those two guys."

"I don't get it Fade", Wise-Son said, shaking his head in disbelief, "Templo could stop bullets in mid-air.  How did he get shot?"

"He was sleeping off a hangover in the front stoop of the building.  Somebody else went to wake him up, but they got shot too."

"Who was it?"

"Cuca, his girlfriend.  She's in the hospital, but she ain't doing well.  I don't think she'll make it to the morning.  Wise, what are we going to do, _ese_?"

"I think that's obvious homie", Wise-Son stared at the wall of his temporary living quarters.  "Me and the boys are comin' home, and then the ENTIRE Blood Syndicate is gonna put some work in – lullaby those S.H.R.E.D. mutha-f*ckaz."

"Straight", said Fade, "but what do we do until then?"

"Hold it down for a day, lay low", Wise-Son answered, "Get the boys together, and I mean everybody.  Set up snipers, no surprises!  If any cops show their faces in Paris Island…"

"I know", said Fade, "put some heads to bed."

"Hey, Fade…"

"I know Wise, I already moved your Mom, Cordelia, and Edmund to a safe house.  DMZ is with 'em.  But let me tell ya, lil' Cordy is NOT a happy child when you get her up in the middle of the night."  

"Thanks Fade, good choice for a bodyguard too."

"Yeah _hombre_, n*ggaz who can fly and juggle cars make the best baby-sitters.  Yo Wise…"

"Yeah?"

"I miss ya man, we all do – especially now.  N*ggaz are actin' crazy without you around.  Never noticed how much you do to keep things together until you left two weeks ago."

"Yeah, I wasn't plannin' on stayin' this long.  Just got a little sidetracked, figurin' out if these people were the bad guys.  They're not."

"What's her name?" Fade wasn't a telepath, but some people could swear he could read minds.  Wise-Son rankled at Fade's quick assessment.  The Blood Syndicate members had been at Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted for close to two weeks.  In that time, he and Marie had been hitting it off rather well, and unconsciously had been spending the majority of their time together.  He would just happen to be in places where she was at.  They would happen to be heading into town at the same time, and would carpool.  They would just HAPPEN to be jogging on the outer mansion grounds in the early morning at the same time - coincidentally.  It was no coincidence, however, that they've shared some deep thoughts with each other.  Wise-Son even went as far as telling her that he has never been "IN" love with anyone, not even with Edmund's mother.  Marie went on to share about her feelings for Logan, from the crush she had on him to the familial, secure love that they share now.  It was on one of these morning walks that Wise-Son and Marie inadvertently held hands the entire time they spoke, never noticing until they had stopped talking and stared into each other's eyes in a long drawn-out moment.  Wise-Son shook these images from his head and answered Fade…

"Her name is Marie…" He could almost hear Fade laughing to himself on the phone.  "Do NOT tell anyone anything.  Nothing will come of it.  I've been living in fantasyland here, and she's just a part of it.  Play time's over!"  

"Life IS a b*tch, Wise", Fade said, "and in Dakota's she's in heat.  But why don't you stay in fantasyland, make that reality?  Take care of your sh*t here, and get your family out of this hell-hole, go somewhere nice and safe…"

"It's not that easy Fade…"

"Is it?" Fade released a deep breath.  "Look Wise, you don't owe anything to Dakota, or the Paris Bloods.  That oath you took is worthless.  Those guys are dead or in jail.  Life will go on without you…"

"I owe them something Fade.  They didn't die for nothing, Templo didn't die for nothing…"

"I agree with you _ese_", Fade interrupted, "but what happens when it's over?  When there's no one left to fight?  Nothing lasts forever, not even revenge."

"The Syndicate could do a lot of good Fade, you know that.  We've already run most of the drug dealers and crooks out of Paris Island…"

"And into OTHER 'hoods and barrios throughout Dakota. It's not that easy Wise.  Look, you come back here, we take care of S.H.R.E.D., but after that we need to think of something else for the Syndicate.  We can't stay like this forever.  Just think on it, man."

"Ok Fade, I'll be back soon with the others." Wise-Son thought about Marie for a moment.  "I got to kiss fantasy-land goodbye first."

**********

That morning, Wise-Son broke the news to Holocaust, Static, and Commando X.  The others wanted to return immediately, that is, all except for Static – but Wise-Son told them that he had some unfinished business to take care of.  He also told Static to think about it.  "We won't think any less of you man, if you don't come back with us."  Static didn't come from Paris Island.  He wasn't a criminal gang-member.  Nobody was going to hold it against him if he didn't want to take on a police agency.  Deep down, Wise-Son saw that Static was heading in a different direction from the rest of them, always was.  Their paths crossed at the Big Bang, but that's it.  While Static always used his powers to help others, the rest of them used their powers to FIGHT others.  "Whatever", he thought, and went down to work out in the school's state of the art gym.  Despite the latest machines and advanced workout equipment, Wise-Son headed to the old bench-presses, slapped 600 lbs. on the bar, and started lifting.

It didn't take long before he had admirers, as most of the girls, and even some of the boys stopped to look at the black man who was treating 600 lbs. like it were 100 lbs.  Wise-Son stopped for a moment, and got up off the bench.  He took off his black sweatshirt, courtesy of the school, and most of his female onlookers gasped.  Many a pair of teenaged eyes widened as they scanned Wise-Son's muscular chest.  His body had no need for body fat, and it showed.  His muscles had every definitive line that was medically possible, and looked like it weighed a ton.  Actually, even though Wise-Son appeared to have the mass of a 175-pound man, he weighed in at close to 300 pounds.  His ultra-dense molecular structure added to his weight and strength.  

He went over to the free-weights, and picked up 200 more pounds to add to his bar.  He then leaned back on his bench press, and started pumping iron again.  All his male admirers went back to what they were doing, though trying harder to make their own workouts look more strenuous than they really were.  The young ladies just gawked all the more, since it wasn't everyday that a super-strong, super-fit man used this gym.

It was then that Marie strolled into the gym/spa.  She noticed a group of girls in full giggle-mode and wanted to see what the commotion was all about.  When she made her way past the group, she let out a short gasp.  She had walked and talked with the man lifting the weights, but to actually see his strength in action, and to see his musculature… it took her by surprise.  She strolled over to Wise-Son's bench – which made many a young lady jealous.  Marie herself took on this air of possessiveness, like she was saying "back off" and "he's mine" at the same time.  She pulled up a chair and just stared at the Blood Syndicate member for a few minutes, noticing the stern look on his face, and the grim determination on his brow.  She could have guessed it was because of his workout, but she knew better.

"What's the problem Hannibal", she said – letting his name roll off her lips.

Wise-Son hesitated before he brought the 800-pound weight bar back to its resting spot.  He sat up on the bench press and turned his head towards Marie.  "Nothing, just thinkin' about some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Syndicate stuff.  Stuff I can't talk about here." He motioned to the gathering of ogling groupies.  Marie stood up and gave them a "look" that might literally kill.  The girls rolled their eyes in various ways, and the group dispersed.

"You were saying?"

"I was saying that this is Syndicate business.  You don't need to know."

Marie looked a little hurt.  In the last two weeks there hadn't been any topics that were off-limits for her.  Wise-Son had opened up to her in such a transparent way that it made it difficult to put up with Logan's usual secretiveness.  "Ok, if that's how you want it…" She got up to leave and Wise-Son reached out and grabbed her arm.  

"No, that's not how I want it. I don't know what I want."  He lowered his head.  "I don't know what to do anymore."

Marie sat back down and moved closer to him.  She removed her gloves, and placed a hand on his shoulder – a luxury she could only take with Wise-Son.  "Wise… Hannibal… you can tell me.  What's going on inside there?" She reached out and placed her hand on his face.  He placed his hand on hers and slowly slid it off his face.

"A friend of mine, Templo, got killed last night."  Marie sat up in astonishment.  She then leaned in close again and tried soothing him.

"I'm so sorry… how did it happen?"

"He was shot by cops.  Some new cops they set up to get bang-babies.  Me and the guys are goin' back to Dakota to settle this up… and put those boys out of business."  Wise-Son spoke through gritted teeth.  The thought of police hunting bang-babies…  bang-babies that THEIR deadly gas created… made him bristle.  It was adding insult to an open, festering injury.

Marie picked up on his rage, and answered slowly, "What are you going to do?" She feared the answer.  She could already see the words on his face.  It was written clearly on his sculpted features, dripping from him like sweat.

"We're going to kill 'em.  Kill 'em all.  When the Blood Syndicate is through there'll be no more super cops.  Nobody will ever try that sh*t ever again."  Wise-Son grabbed his sweatshirt and put it on.  Marie had yet to say anything, letting his words sink in.  Finally, she broke her silence.

"You guys shouldn't do that Hannibal.  Killing a lot of people is only going to make things worse."

"What should we do Marie?  Get lawyers and sue?  Hold a protest march?  How about a boycott?"

"That's not what I mean.  I just don't think it's right to hurt anyone.  How do you know the people that you go after are the ones that killed your friend?  Hannibal, you could end up hurting a lot of innocent people…"

"Nobody's INNOCENT Marie!"  Wise-Son's voice had raised sharply, but he quickly gained his composure.  "These people… all they understand is power.  Some of them do the dirty work, but they all approve, or most don't care.  That gas they used was supposed to kill us, and you know what?  It did."

"But…"

"Hold up, let me finish.  The Big Bang killed off all the old gangs, but we came back with power.  REAL power.  The only way these people dealt wit' us is force, 'n' force is where their power comes from too.  But now, we turn'd the tables on 'em.  Marie, you play the hand you get, and we're goin' to play this out as long as we can."

Marie shook her head in quiet disbelief.  She reached out and grabbed his hand and gently held it.  She leaned in so close to his face that her lips were touching his cheek.  She felt him relax somewhat, and she measured her words carefully.  In barely a whisper, she said, "Hannibal, what do you get if you win?"

"Huh?"  He didn't know how to answer.

"What happens tomorrow… to you… to your family… (she couldn't believe she was saying this) to us?"

"There's no tomorrow, Marie.  You have a future, I don't.  I can't see past today.  I just can't."

"Then speak to someone who CAN see.  Before you leave, speak to Professor Xavier.  Promise me you'll do that."  She looked into his eyes.  His mind was swimming behind his brown eyes, a pool of emotions and thoughts swirling together and barely discernable.  He just nodded to her, and the two of them silently got up and walked out of the gym, holding hands the entire time.  Maybe they didn't notice their joined hands, but everyone else in the gym did – especially Mr. Robert "Bobby" Drake.  

Bobby shook his head incredulously muttering something like "I can't believe this", and walked out of the gym.  He went to look for his friend, St. John Allerdyce, who was down at the basketball courts.

**********

It's a beautiful Saturday morning in Westchester, and the kids at Professor Xavier's "Mutant High" are taking full advantage of it.  Some young men are playing their own brand of basketball, with various mutant powers making up for a lack of raw skill, and two teenaged lovers were sitting together on a park bench - on the far end of the grounds, away from prying eyes.  They're kissing, or have been for a while, as is their customary adolescent mating ritual.  However, this unlikely pair are fostering more than a passing lust for each other, more than fanciful interest.  

Virgil Hawkins, a.k.a. Static, and Jubilation Lee, known to her peers as Jubilee, sat entwined together watching the world pass by - unaware that anything else existed beyond their embrace.  Jubilee leaned in closer to Static's ear, giving it a quick nip, before whispering how much she has come to care for this young man.  Their first two weeks together have been "more than awesome", as Kitty Pryde would put it.  The two super-charged young people had spent the entire time together.  Static had been in contact with his mom – who is fully aware that her son is a bang-baby/town hero (though he was initially grounded for the rest of his life when she found out he snuck out to Paris Island).  Had it not been for Static thwarting a robbery attempt at her restaurant, he may still indeed be grounded to this day.  

It was then that his mother, in all her wisdom, knew that this young man was destined to serve the world for the better.  Though she had a distaste for the Blood Syndicate, she knew that Static was using his membership to serve a greater good.  Static had informed his family that he'd accepted the offer from the School for the Gifted.  His mother had thought it a wise move, since he could learn to use his powers in a greater capacity under Professor X's tutelage.  The Professor had already taken care of the paperwork and school transfers at Sadler High – all that was necessary was for Static's mom to go to the school and sign them in person.  In a week, Static was going back to Dakota to do that, and also to say good-bye to family and friends, and get his personal things.  

Not everything had been smooth sailing for the young couple though.  There had been other incidents of racial vandalism aimed at them, but it only made them more public about their love and their relationship.  Had the two of them not been caught up in their romantic revelry, they would have noticed Bobby Drake run over to the basketball courts to speak to his friend St. John Allerdyce.  Were they not exchanging mutual "I love you's", they would have seen the way St. John's face contorted in anger, and how he was leading a group of Mutant High's male population right towards them.  It wasn't until Static felt a shift in the sunlight that he looked up from his embrace.  Very suddenly, three pairs of hands violently grabbed Static by the back of his Dakota Bulls jersey, and hurled him to the ground.  "What the…?"

"What the HELL are you guys doing you jerks!!!  What's the matter with you?!"  Jubilee was incensed at the sudden level of testosterone among her male peers.

"We're tired of gangsta-thug-garbage f*cking with our girls", shouted St. John.  "In fact, we're tired of them F*CKING our girls!"  And with that he shoved Jubilee, hard.

"Hold on there partner", cut in Sam Guthrie (who was the third assailant, by the way), "You told me these guys stole something from you."

"Yeah, they're trying to steal OUR women, first Jubilee, now Marie…" said Bobby.

"OUR WOMEN!?!?  You don't own us Bobby Drake!"  Jubilee yelled.  Static was about to say (and do) something, but Jubilee piped up again, "I can do whatever I want, and you better damn well learn to grow up and deal with it!"

"Oh crap, this is over a girl?"  Sam Guthrie had just had enough.  "I ain't fightin' Magneto Jr. over a bunch of skirts. Later guys", he said in his Texan accent.  He just turned and headed back to the basketball courts, knowing full well that something wicked this way comes. And he was right.  Static stepped in front of Jubilee and had a look on his face that she'd only seen when he was around the Blood Syndicate.  Static wasn't a natural killer like some of the others, but she knew he was learning a little from them – and she hated that.

"Just walk away man", he said in a low raspy tone, almost half-smiling, "do yourself a favor and get lost.  No blood, no foul, right?"

"You walk away monkey-boy, this is OUR school", St. John shot back, and whipped out his trusty lighter and began flicking it.  Bobby and Jubilee knew that St. John couldn't create flames, but he had complete control over them. 

"St. John, put that thing away", pleaded Jubilee – fearing the worst. 

"Yeah", Static said, "Put it away, before I put YOU away Captain Cracka."

"We're not scared of you tough guy", said Bobby, though he wasn't sure he believed it.  Were they in over their heads here?  He and St. John had powers, but he knew this guy had used his powers in combat… and fairly frequently.  Jubilee, for her part, couldn't believe what was happening.  Everything was happening too fast for her to react in time.

"Don't sing it, bring that sh*t, you little B*CTH", said Static –pointing to St. John.  St. John flicked the lighter on, and the flame suddenly became a small fireball.  It hurtled towards Jubilee and Static.  Static shoved Jubilee out of the way and simultaneously erected an electro-static shield.  The fireball burst apart upon impacting the electric barrier. 

Bobby had enough time to say, "Oh sh*t", before a blast of electricity slammed he and St. John in the chest – hurling them 25 feet back.  He was dazed and groggy, an after effect of being hit with electricity.  He noticed St. John wasn't getting up.  "You bastard!"  He pointed a hand at Static and the air around the Blood Syndicate began to shimmer and crystallize.

"He's tryin' to freeze me", thought Static.  As the crystallizing air quickly hardened around him, Static created an electro-static bubble around him.  To the outside world, it looked as if he had been totally encased in ice, as was Bobby's intent.  But looks can be deceiving.

"Bobby what the HELL are you doing? He'll suffocate!"  Jubilee was frantic. She spread her arms forward and large glowing oblong shapes materialized from thin air.  The glowing orbs floated over to Static's ice cocoon, and began to explode.  But instead of the explosions shattering the ice, they merely cracked the surface.  On top of that, the resultant flame bursts from the blasts subsided, reshaped into the form of bats, and actually began hovering above her.  She looked on to see a now conscious St. John standing up and laughing.

"Now it's your turn to get burned, you little b*tch!"  He stood up and concentrated on Jubilee, who was now taking steps back – fighting back tears.  

"St. John, Bobby… don't do this…"  She had to leap under the park bench as the fire bats swooped down at her in power dives.  As she leapt under the bench, the bats spewed flames at her.  Bobby looked a little uneasy, but St. John was loving this.  Just then, the ice-ball that used to be Static began to twitch and then lifted 20 feet into the air.  It hovered there for a second, and then crashed down with a mighty force.  Upon impact, the ice-ball shattered into little pieces, and then organized themselves into perfect Saturn-like rings around the gang-member.  Static was hovering, not standing, in the center of the ice rings.  Blue electrical arcs were constantly shooting between him and the frozen pieces. His eyes were glowing blue, and his voice sounded like it was coming out of an old speaker – filled with an electrical crackle. 

"Time for round two…" Bobby had barely enough time to put his hands up as a hundred icy projectiles shot out at him and St. John.  The ice bits flew almost as fast as bullets, and hit him simultaneously – sending him tumbling to the ground and into the darkness of unconsciousness.  St. John had enough sense to dive, but that meant that his legs and back took the brunt of the ice bullets' impact.  He howled in pain as he felt fresh welts forming under his jeans.  He sneered back at Static, and the fire bats turned to circle their new prey.  

Static dodged the first two or three dive bombs by the fiery creatures, but when they squared up to breathe fire on him, he encased them in an electro-static bubble – cutting off their oxygen.  With no oxygen to keep the flames burning, the fire bats simply disappeared.  Bobby Drake was just coming to, and noticed St. John fumbling for his lighter.  Bobby formed two large icy daggers that hurled themselves through the air at Static.  The daggers would've been able to impale and kill the young man, had they not been shattered into a million pieces.  They were struck by an electric burst that shot out from Static's eyes.  Those glowing eyes then turned to St. John and an electrical crack of lighting shot across the field and caused his lighter to explode, igniting his shirtsleeves on fire, and burning his fingers.  St. John cursed loudly, and commanded the flames to attack the gang member.  

With that, the flames, as if alive, leapt off of the young man's arms and flew at Static with inhuman speed… only to be choked out by another electro-static bubble.  "Enough of this bull-sh*t, lights out boys", Static said.  He cupped his hand as if holding a baseball, and made a throwing motion.  Indeed, an electrical ball-like sphere flew from his hands and landed in between St. John and Bobby Drake.  St. John was about to comment that Static missed, but before Bobby could mentally register what was happening, the air began to crackle with electricity.  Bobby noticed the hairs on his arms and head were standing straight up, as were St. John's.  The two young men didn't even have time to exchange looks as they suddenly, and quite forcefully, hurtled through the air  - towards each other, and towards that glowing electrical sphere.  They collided with a sickening thud, and their arms and legs intertwined around each other in a non-discreet manner.  Actually, it was their hair and clothing that were magnetically glued together by static electricity.  The two were alive and well, but thoroughly incapacitated.

For all intents and purposes, this fight was over.  Actually, it was over because Jean Grey and Scott Summers came running out of the school, clearing the other students away from the combatants. "What is going on here!?" Scott had his hands on his visor, ready to strike down anyone who dared continue this hostility.  

Jubilee ran in front of Static and said, "Virgil just ended this thing.  They (pointing at the Bobby-St. John pile) started it when they attacked US."  Jean Grey walked over to the two immobile mutant boys.  She quickly scanned their minds for recent memories – and got more than she bargained for.

"Scott, she's right.  They started the fight… and St. John is our racial vandal."

"What?"  Scott looked incredulously at the blonde mutant.  "You're the one who's been defacing the school?  The Professor may have wanted to let you confess on your own, but this fighting has gone too far.  Jean, bring them inside… NOW!"  Scott wasn't angry at Jean, and she knew it.  His barked order was meant to convey his anger at the students.  The two young men were lifted telekinetically and flew into the school.  Jean Grey walked away towards the mansion and looked back at Scott for a moment – mentally communicating with him.  "I'll be right there.  Make sure those young men are in the Professor's office."  With that she nodded, and continued on her way to the mansion.  Scott turned to Static and Jubilee and said, "While I don't condone any violence in the school, Jean mentally filled me in on what happened.  Virgil (placing a hand on his shoulder) you conducted yourself well.  You never used lethal force on those two guys, and that's commendable."

"Thank you sir", answered Static, "I never try to hurt folks unless I absolutely have to… at least I TRY not to."  Jubilee walked up next to him and grabbed his arm.  

"I know that", said Scott.  "You could've easily just electrocuted Bobby and St. John instantly… but maybe you should develop some kind of tazer-shot, so you won't have to fight these drawn out – and potentially dangerous – battles."

"A what-shot?" asked Static.

"A tazer.  The Professor and I will teach you more about how to use your powers when you get back from Dakota.  And Virgil…"

"Yes?"

"I'll be glad when you graduate and become an X-Man.  Buddy, you've got no choice on that one!"  Scott smiled at him and turned to leave to deal with the pressing matter of disciplining Mr. Drake and Mr. Allerdyce.  

"No way", Static said to Jubilee, "You hear that… they want me to be an X-Man someday!  My mom's going to flip!"

"Of course they want you Virgil", Jubilee pulled Static into an embrace, "You're a hero… pretending to be a gangster."

"I'm not pretending…"

"Yes you are", said Jubilee, "You try to be ruthless, but you even care for the lives of people who hate you.  Those jerk-wads could've killed you, but you just stopped 'em.  You're a hero Virgil… a super-duper hero…" And she kissed him passionately.  When their lips parted, she whispered, "That's why I love you so much."

"I'll always be your hero… always."  The two teenagers kissed once again, this time, without the fear that someone would react belligerently towards them.  The world faded away as they kissed, and for these two, their worlds were completely in each other.

*********

The following Monday, news spread around the school that the Blood Syndicate was definitely leaving.  Marie – who had just heard this, asked to be excused from Ms. Munro's class.  Ororo could see the anguish in the girl's eyes, and let her go.  Marie, known as the mutant Rogue, hurriedly left the classroom chatter.  She literally ran upstairs and straight towards the room of the Blood Syndicate members.  Trying the door knob, and finding the room door unlocked, she didn't even wait to knock.  The young lady just burst into the room.  She saw that no one was in the room, that is, until Wise-Son came out of the shower with a bathrobe on.  "Didn't yo' momma teach you to knock first?"

"How dare you", Marie asked, "You said that you'd take a week to think about it!  You lied to me!  Have you even BEEN to see the Professor?"

"Hold up girl…", Wise-Son pulled up a chair for Marie, but she didn't sit.  He shrugged and continued, "I already spoke with the Prof late yesterday.  I got a plan on how to deal with S.H.R.E.D., and maybe even more than that.  If it all goes down, baby, my war could be over real soon.  But we got to act fast."

"And when were you planning on telling me that you were leaving?"  Marie spoke, and tilted her head side-ways, not meeting his eyes.  She could feel grief coming over her. She fought back a tear, but another threatened to escape.

"I was going to tell you once we were on our way.  This is gonna be dangerous, real dangerous.  The whole Blood Syndicate is in on it, and we're even going to get the X-Men to help us."

"But that means that I would've had to go too…"

"No Marie, I specifically asked that you stay behind."  A look of utter betrayal etched on Marie's face.  Before she could say anything, Wise-Son spoke again, "It's not that I don't want you along…  I just don't want you to get hurt… or killed.  My mom, and Cordelia and Edmund, are being flown back here to the mansion.  Virgil's family too, and I want you to look after them until we get back."

"Hannibal, I can take care of myself", suddenly realizing what he just said, "Wait… you're moving your families here?  Why?"

"Because if this goes down like I want, there ain't going to be a safer place for them to live.  It was the Professor's idea."

"What about you?" she asked, barely a whisper.

"I don't know Marie.  After this, I don't have any plans.  If all goes as planned, the whole world will finally know the truth about the Big Bang… about everything.  I don't know if that's gonna make it better for me, or worse.  I might be on the run – who knows."

"You deserve more than that Hannibal", Marie removed her gloves, again a luxury she could only take with Wise-Son.  She reached for his face, and he didn't turn away.

"I don't know if I do Marie. Static is better than the rest of us, he's ain't a monster like me and the others.  The only thing I got left is making life safer for Mom, Cordy, and Edmund."

"Is that ALL you have?" asked Marie, voice pleading with a barely noticeable anguish.  "Hannibal, open your eyes, and your heart.  You have more to live for…"

"I can't Marie", Wise-Son shook his head.  "I got to do this. It's what God made me to do.  I know that now."

"Would God want you to live without love?"

"I can't love, Marie", Wise-Son blinked back his own tears, "I seen so much death… caused so much of it… I don't know HOW to love.  I don't deserve anybody's love." 

And then she kissed him.  Marie just reached to him, placed his face in her hands, and kissed him.  He pulled away at first, whispering something like "You don't want me", but she looked at his tear soaked face, and answered him sweetly:

"For the first time in my life, somethin' makes sense.  Hannibal, you are the only man in the world for me.  I used to curse God, wondering why I was a mutant, who couldn't touch anyone.  But I always felt like I was bein' told to wait."   Marie brushed her lips over his cheeks, "When I met Logan, I thought he was the answer to all my secret prayers, but Logan just gave me back the family I never had.  And I'll always love him for that."

"But…"

"No", she protested, "let me finish.  Logan's given me the family I never had, the fatherly, brotherly love that was stolen from me… but Hannibal, you're the man that I was made for."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I told you I use to curse God… but last night I actually prayed.  And you know what… I thanked Him for you.  I thanked 'im for bringing you here.  (barely whispering) I… I love you Hannibal Bruce.  Do you love me… Can you love me?"

"I… I love you Marie, but I don't know how", he said.  

"Let me show you", she said. She leaned in close, and as her lips pressed his, they parted.  His lips parted a well, and their tongues gently entwined around each other.  They kissed deeply, passionately.  Reality melted away, as did time.  They held their kiss for eternity, as if the universe would end if they stopped.  There was much to do in the coming days, but for now, for once in the lives of these two star-crossed lovers, life was finally worth living.

**Author's Note:  This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I decided to leave the final battle between the Blood Syndicate, the X-Men and Alva Industries till the next one.  It'll be the last one.  Thank you all for the critiques.  I do take those to heart.  The conclusion is coming soon in "All Good Things"! **


	10. 9 All Good Things Part 1

ALL GOOD THINGS… part 1 

April 2002

She wiped the tears from her face, but it was no use: more just fell to replace them.  In her room, alone for the first time in days, she clutched the brown-paper wrapped package like she would die without it.  Maybe she would.  Her hands trembled and shook violently as she ripped the outer packaging, but stopped when she saw contents.  She'd known what it was from the moment they gave it to her four weeks ago, but couldn't bring herself to open it until now.  With everything that had happened since then, she didn't really have enough time to do it.  There was always somebody around her, even in her room – checking on her, trying to make sure she didn't have the complete emotional breakdown that everyone expected.

If he could see her now, he would've been proud of her strength, she thought – and blinked back another round of tears.  She looked down at the videotape in her hands, still shaking… and began to think.  The memories came in a jumble at first, but the onslaught soon subsided into an orderly trickle.  She remembered it all… what she witnessed and what she had been told… like it was yesterday…

*********

March 2002

Sunday evenings at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was usually a relaxing time for its faculty.  But this Sunday evening was different. On this day there would be no tranquil walks along the property, no lounging at poolside, no movie-marathons with the students.  In fact, the mood this evening was anything BUT calm, cool, and relaxing.  Deep below the school, hidden under many feet of concrete and steel, was the secret Ready-Room of the X-Men.

The X-Men were assembled there, along with Professor X and Wise-Son.  There was a large computer screen displaying all kinds of information on various topics.  Professor X took his place at the head of the meeting table, flanked by Cyclops and Wise-Son.  Logan, Jean Grey, and Ororo Munro were seated opposite them.  "My X-Men", Professor X started, "I have called you in today to prepare you for a mission that I hoped would never be necessary.  When I formed the X-Men, it was to make humanity see that mutants and humans can coexist peacefully and even cooperatively.  But I also sought to defuse or sway the flames of war – a war the Erik Lensherr said was inevitable."  Charles Xavier's face grew stern and grim.  "Today, I see that Erik was indeed right."

"What do you mean Professor?" asked Jean.  "I haven't seen anything in the news about any mutant war."

"That's just it Ms. Grey… it would appear that the war between humans and mutants will be a clandestine one: a secret war fought in the shadows.  And knowing that it may come to this, I have helped train all of you to not just help others… but to fight. (Turning to Scott) Cyclops, continue with the briefing."

The rest of the team looked at Scott Summers incredulously.  He walked in with them… how could he know anything more than they did?  "Ahem, (pointing to the computer screen behind him) if you'll take a look at the monitor, you'll see an aerial picture of Dakota's local **S**.**H**.**R**.**E**.**D**. headquarters.  S.H.R.E.D. is the **S**pecial **H**eavy-equipment **R**apid **E**mergency **D**ivision of the Dakota Police Department.  It was funded by the federal government, with heavy private donations from this firm (picture changes behind him): **A**LVA **I**NDUSTRIES."

"Alva?" said Logan, "Sh*t!  I don't like where this is going.  Those guys are dirty."

"Yes, well…", Scott smirked and continued, "you're going to absolutely HATE this.  Alva is more than dirty.  Best as we can tell… they're calling all the shots.  All of S.H.R.E.D.'s equipment is completely supplied by A.I. (Alva Industries).  What's crazy is that A.I. has its own secret PRIVATE security force, called System, which uses the exact SAME equipment – not civilian versions.  And folks, this stuff is high-tech, top-of-the-line."

"Like what?" asked Ororo.

"Like medium and heavy battle armor equipped with… (after a brief pause) psi-dampening technology."  The words struck the X-Men harder than bullets.  The evil implications of this kind of technology were beyond imagination.

"Wha…what do you mean Scott?" Jean's heart skipped a beat as she contemplated how anyone could produce this kind of technology.  How could they test it?  Why would they even produce it unless it was designed to fight…

"Yes Jean it was", Scott answered her. She suddenly remembered their mental link.  Turning to the others, Scott continued, "Alva Industries is the leading technology firm in the illegal super-human genetics research field."

"Leading?  You mean there are others?"  Ororo asked.  She had heard rumors of secret criminal groups doing this sort of thing, but never anything concrete.

"Well Ororo, this field is TECHNICALLY illegal, but with firms like Alva, it is very easy to hide it inside their legitimate research infrastructure.  The company manufactures everything from weapons to pharmaceuticals, to household chemicals and items.  They also supply a vast amount of equipment to military and paramilitary organizations- like the police.  These people are well connected."

"Ok, ok One-Eye, enough with the lectures.  What the hell does this mean to US?"  Logan hated long speeches as much as Scott loved them. 

"Logan, what this means is that Alva is not only aware of psionic mutants, but already knows how to fight them.  Chances are they know a lot more about super-powers than even WE do.  And Alva is a FOR-profit company.  Logan… who do YOU think they're developing all this equipment for?"

Logan's eyes went wide.  He suddenly thought if his own past, especially the missing chunks. He rubbed his knuckles, feeling the adamantium implants… knowing full well that he was literally DESIGNED to be a weapon.  Why couldn't he remember his past?  Did he even HAVE a past?  Was he abducted and turned into a weapon, or was he BRED to be a weapon?!?!  Did he kill anyone?  How many?  How did he escape from the people who did this to him?  OhmyGod… DID HE ESCAPE?!?!  His eyes went wild at the thought of still being controlled by some unknown masters.  The sudden rage that overcame him resulted in a loud "_SCHUNK_"… as his claws popped out.  Everyone stopped talking and looked at him, with differing expressions of surprise and compassion on their faces (except Wise-Son).

"Logan, please remain calm", said Professor Xavier.  "let Scott finish his briefing.  It is very important that you know your roles in the coming assault."

"Assault?  Prof…"

"Jean", said Scott, "let me explain.  It'll all make sense when I'm done. (Directing the others to look at the monitor) Here's a list of all of the subsidiaries wholly and partly owned by Alva.  Now cross reference them against all the companies that are working on some classified government programs, codenamed "Upper-Hand", and you'll notice…"

"It's nearly ALL of them" Ororo gasped as she saw the names of almost all the firms light up in red.  Some of these names were familiar, the makers of popular household products.  But others were not only unfamiliar, but ominous.  What did firms called Sentinel Electronics and Legacy Bio-Tech actually produce?  "Professor, how did we get all this information?"

"Over the past few years I've employed a private investigator named Remy Le Beau", said Professor X.  "He is a mutant, with a power very similar to the young man called Commando X.  However, he serves me more with his… errrr… expertise in clandestine search and seizure."

"He's a thief", spat out Logan.

"Quite Mr. Logan, but one of the very BEST thieves in the world."

"Mr. Le Beau has been getting us info on Alva Industries since the Big Bang riots in Dakota."  Scott asked everyone to look at their personal monitors now, because each of them was getting strategic information of their role in the upcoming mission.  "It was then that we discovered the links between all these companies and Alva Industries.  It was also then that we got a taste at how much influence Alva has with the local, state, and federal government.  The Feds are in bed with Alva, and have been for quite some time. The official reports on the Big Bang differ so much from the eyewitness accounts we've gathered, that we realized the extent of the cover up.  FEMA, the FBI, the EPA, and every media organization in the country all collaborated to create the 'official' story."

"So what are we going to do about it One-Eye?" asked Logan.

"Yeah", said Ororo. "Why don't we just take this information to the public?"

"Because we have no proof", said Scott.  "Remy was able to get some very damming evidence from A.I's headquarters in Dakota, but he was apparently caught spying and had to ditch it while making his escape."

"So it's gone?"

"No Ororo.  He hid the information somewhere in Alva headquarters – in their network.  Unfortunately, to retrieve it someone must enter a special password in Edwin Alva's personal computer.  That means we have to break into A.I. headquarters, get to the CEO's office, and access his network from his terminal."

"Scott", asked Jean – who was growing increasingly frustrated with this whole idea, "What happened to Remy?"

"We don't know Jean", replied Scott, "we haven't been able to contact him since he gave us the info about the evidence.  (turning to the monitors)  The Blood Syndicate will stage an all-out assault on S.H.R.E.D. headquarters.  This attack will be so ferocious, that S.H.R.E.D. will need help from their big brothers at System.  While this attack is underway, a small covert strike-force will infiltrate Alva Industries, and retrieve the data."

"That simple eh?" sneered Logan.  "We just attack a heavily armored police division, then break into a company that can manufacture super-humans?"

"Nobody said it was gonna be easy."  All eyes turned to look at Wise-Son, since this was the first time he spoke a word in all the time they had been there.  "Look… I was the one that holla'd at Professor X and told him that the Syndicate was gonna bust a cap on those S.H.R.E.D. muthaf*ckaz.  When he showed ME all his cards, I was tripin' too… just like ya'll.  I didn't know that him and Cyclops were rollin' like this.  We were just gonna hit S.H.R.E.D., but their plan is to take out the BIG BOYS.  I don't know about ya'll, but I'm down for this sh*t. With or without ya'll!"

"Slow down… HOMIE", replied Logan, "Nobody's chickening out.  I just want to know HOW we're going pull this off.  I think it's a great idea.  It's time to make those Alva bastards pay for tearing that city up."

"I'm inclined to agree with you", said Ororo, "but something ELSE is bothering me.  Scott, why did you and the Professor hide all your plans from us?"

"Yes SCOTT", Jean could now barely hide her anger.  "Scott Summers, I… no, WE trust you with our lives every time we go on these X-missions.  And Professor… I've always thought that you were being honest and straight with us."

"Jean…"

"NO SCOTT, now it's YOUR turn to listen!  Since last August you've been running some secret operation and you decide to tell us about it NOW?  I can't believe this!  You set us up… when you sent the team down to Dakota!  You probably KNEW about the Blood Syndicate before we did!  But how did you hide it… (then she looked at the Professor)… Professor!  You blocked part of my link with Scott!  How DARE you!!!"

"Ms. Grey, it was necessary…"

"NECESSARY?!?!  You invade the most intimate part of our relationship and you tell me it's necessary?!?!"  Jean was livid.

"Jean, he didn't INVADE us", Scott said slowly, unable to meet his fiancé's gaze.  "I TOLD him to do it.  I… told the Professor to give me a mental block whenever I thought about Remy, Alva, or the Big Bang."

"Ms. Grey, it was necessary in order to PROTECT you and the X-Men.  The people who did this know too much about the nature of psionic abilities.  We had to take more precautions than usual."

"But Professor", asked Ororo, "When we went to Dakota, you and Scott should have told us that you had information on the Blood Syndicate…"

"We didn't tell you because we didn't know about them." Scott looked up and finally made eye contact with Jean and Ororo.  They were looking at him like they didn't know him.  Like they couldn't believe their eyes.  He had lied to them.  He had lied to them all:  knowing way more than he was letting on, hiding things from the people he loved.  "Our investigation into all those firms never pointed to Alva until AFTER the Big Bang.  Once the Blood Syndicate surfaced, we KNEW we were on the right track."

"So the plan was ALWAYS to bring them back here?  You didn't just make that up on the fly?" asked Logan.  

"Yes Logan, that was our main goal.  Bring someone from the Blood Syndicate back and speak to them."

"Well congratulations… BOSS", Ororo hissed sarcastically.  "YOUR plan worked perfectly.  We're all glad that we could be of some USE to you."

"Ororo, please…"

"No Scott, she's right", said Jean.  "We're just pawns for you and the Professor to manipulate in your little games…"

"Ms. Grey!!!  That will be enough."  Professor Xavier raised his voice for the first time since he could honestly remember.  "No one here thinks of you as pawns.  People… in our personal lives, we have very much become a family… one that I'm proud to be a part of.  But the X-Men were set up to be a means of protection for both mutants and humans alike.  In the last fifteen years, I've discovered that many organizations view mutants to be a high threat.  They think us so dangerous, that they have been trying to create ways to counteract or destroy us.  Jean, Ororo, Logan… the things I have done, in the interest of protecting EVERYONE, including you, are solely MY fault. They are MY cross to bear.  Scott never intended to bear it with me, but it became necessary to entrust him with this burden, should something happen to me.  Scott has had to sacrifice much, holding back information, making unpopular decisions, all the while alienating the very people he loves the most."

"But Scott…", Jean's eyes began to grow moist as she looked into his eyes and stood up.  "You could've trusted me.  Why didn't you… (her voice trembled, small tears formed in her eyes) trust in ME?"

"Jean…" Scott's voice quivered as well, and a tear streaked from under his glasses.  He got up from his side of the room and walked over to Jean, embracing her.  "I love you Jean… more than anything.  I've been hiding these things because I wanted to protect you.  If these people can block psionic powers, then it stood to reason that they may be able to use them too.  I couldn't risk them scanning you, hurting you… or worse.  Jean, I couldn't LIVE without you."

"And what makes you think, Scott Summers", Jean looked into Scott's ruby-spectacled eyes, "that I could live without you?"  The two of them embraced for a little while longer, communicating telepathically.  Scott Summers mentally signaled Professor X to remove his mental block, and then, in a rush of information, Jean knew the extent of his secrecy.  Mutant hunting robots, anti-mutant viruses, possible alien technology, and corporate-funded super-human assassins… it was almost too much for Jean to bear.  She looked into Scott's face to see the look of relief on it, at not having to guard this information from her.  She suddenly, however, realized why he kept it from everyone else, and why SHE would have to keep it to herself as well.  Scott had shared his thoughts with her and, in doing so, his burden.  Jean and Scott suddenly became very conscious of the people around them, and they sat down… this time right next to each other.  They held each other's hands in a tight clasp as the meeting progressed.

"Now, may we continue?" asked Professor Xavier.  He knew that one day Jean would discover their deception… and he thanked God that she loved Scott so much.  This would have been so much harder if they would've had a violent disagreement.  He was ready to mind-wipe everyone in the room but Scott (and Wise-Son, who couldn't be wiped) if this argument had not gone smoothly.  

"Yes Professor.  Look at your screens and notice the diagram of S.H.R.E.D.'s HQ.  See those towers?"

"Yeah?" said Logan.

"They're Psi-dampeners.  We noticed that every Alva Industry building has towers just like that."  Scott pointed to the black towers that adorned the rooftops of each building in the compound.  "At first we thought they were communications towers, but the Professor noticed that as soon as those things go up, he loses the ability to mentally scan the area.  Those things even interfere with Cerebro."

"So we have to take them down first?" asked Ororo.

"Oh no…", replied Scott, shaking his head, "we take them down LAST!"

"I don't get it, why not take them down first and gain the psionic advantage?" 

"Because Ro, we WANT everyone in that building to be outside before we hit those things."

"The Syndicate's gonna attack S.H.R.E.D. with a vengeance", said Wise-Son, "but it's going to be public.  The entire news media is going to be there, CNN, NBC, FOXNews… the whole f*ckin' world.  Fade's gonna have the boys blast the hell out of the regular SHRED cops, that'll make them call in the super-high tech folks."

"You mean the ones that they claim are just a 'private' security force?" asked Logan.

"Exactly", Wise-Son continued, "By then, all the personnel will have evacuated the building.  Then they'll call in System, the high-tech dudes, to deal with the Syndicate.  That's when we'll destroy the towers."

"But what's the point?" said Jean.  "After the employees are outside, and Alva Industries shows the world that they have developed technology to fight super-powered mutants, what good will it do?"

"Well Jean", Scott replied, "we know that as soon as we attack the HQ, any evidence linking them to those illegal Alva activities and research will likely be on its way to being destroyed.  But the knowledge the actual employees posses, especially the top executives…"

"Will still be inside their heads", interrupted Jean, "Professor, we could get the exact contents of their minds and turn it over to the public!"

"Ms. Grey, we'll do no such thing", said Professor Xavier, smiling wryly.  "I am going to make THEM confess everything to the national media.  Live!"

"Then what about Alva Industries?" asked Logan.

"While all this going down", piped in Wise-Son, "You, me, and Cyclops are going to sneak into Alva Industries and download the info from Edwin Alva's computer."  Ororo and Jean were clearly not ready for this disclosure.  

Jean looked at Scott, squeezed his hand even tighter and firmly said, "No. You. Will. Not."

"Now Jean…"

"No Scott!  You guys don't know what's in there.  We don't know what they're capable of. Why don't we just use whatever those people say…"

"Because it won't be enough Jean.  We need to get that hard data and nail Alva once and for all.  If we can't stop them, we can expose them and let the world stop them!"

"But does it have to be YOU?" Jean suppressed a tear as her anger and fear mixed together.  "Wise-Son is indestructible, Logan can heal his wounds but you… Scott, no.  It's too dangerous.  Send someone else."

"Jean… (touching her face gently) precious…", Scott said, "I am the leader of the X-Men, and I know this is going to be dangerous, but that's why I can't leave this to anyone else. I HAVE to go.  Our team is going to need some serious offensive firepower, and that's why I definitely need to be a part of it."

"Then let me go with you Scott."

"No Jean.  You and Ororo will be with the Blood Syndicate, making sure they don't let their violent tendencies get the better of them. (turning to Wise-Son) No offense."

"None taken", replied Wise-Son.

"Plus, you'll be my communications link to the outside world.  If anything happens to me, or any of us, I'll be able to contact you."

"But what about any psi-dampeners at A.I.'s headquarters?" asked Logan.

"We're taking those out first.  The distraction should allow us to sneak into the facility. (turning to Jean) Don't worry.  We'll be fine.  We always have right?"

"Right", said Jean, and embraced him tightly.  Scott waved at the Professor Xavier, giving him a hand signal that the meeting was over.  The Professor dismissed the remaining folks, and then exited the meeting room himself.  All the while, Jean Grey and Scott Summers remained in a tight embrace, holding each other as if they were afraid the world would end if they let go.

~~~~~~~

The following takes place AFTER the events of the last chapter

It was Monday evening, classes were over, and most of the students and teachers of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were at dinner.  Wise-Son and Marie lay in his bed together, under the sheets.  That afternoon they had finally professed their love for one another, and then spent the rest of the time intimately talking, with long and intermittent passionate kisses punctuating the conversation.  Marie had never loved someone like this before because, in fact, she couldn't.  She had fantasized about what it would be like, to be with a man she completely loved, touching him, feeling him, knowing him… romanticizing every aspect of it.  But even in her most rose-colored dreams could she not have imagined that it would be as gentle, as loving, and as rewarding as what the two lovers had conceived on that day.  Hannibal Bruce, a young man who thought he didn't deserve her love, being loved by Marie, a young woman who had so much love pent up inside her.  

The two of them, as Wise-Son would put it, "came clean".  There were no more pretenses, no more walls.  They had achieved a level of transparency that rivaled that of couples who've been together for years.  That's what happens when you get two people together who have been yearning for this kind of love their entire lives.  They were on the bed, Marie's head resting on Hannibal's bare chest, with her snow-white skin contrasting to his light brown perfect features.  She gently kissed his chest, and reveled as she felt his breathe skip, reacting to her touch.  He then pulled her up to his face and whispered, "I love you", but so softly that only a lover could hear it.

"Hannibal", whispered Marie, "When are you leaving?"

"After Cyclops… I mean Scott, gets back here with my family. I want them to meet you."  Scott Summers had left that morning in the Blackbird to retrieve Wise-Son's family (his mom, sister, and son: Edmund), and Static's family as well.  "They should be in later tonight, and then we leave tomorrow morning.  It's very important that they get here today.  I called Scott this afternoon and asked him to bring back a family friend as well, this pastor named Reverend Larsen."

"Why?"

"Cuz he's a friend of the family, and he's someone that's been mentoring me for a while.  He's the only other person that I confessed my feelings to from back home (he omitted the conversation with Fade the night before).  I've been calling him every other day since we got here."

"What does he think about us?" asked Marie.

"He was telling me to 'fess up to you all along.  Said somethin' about honesty being the best policy in a mar… relationship.  (quickly changing the subject) You'll like him.  He's a little long-winded, but have you ever met a preacher that wasn't?"  Marie laughed at his joke, but didn't miss that misspoken word… and smiled.

~~~~~~~

Halfway into the dinner session, several heads turned to watch Marie and Wise-Son walking in to get their food.  They went together to the food counter and picked up trays, some food, some beverages, and sat down together.  Before long, Static and Jubilee, along with Kitty Pryde and the other Blood Syndicate members, all sat at their table.  There was a pall of silence when Wise-Son and Commando X made eye contact.  Both of these two had been members of Nur Allah, the racist Muslim faction of the Paris Bloods.   But since then, Wise-Son had obviously moderated his views – if he ever actually had them.  Commando X had not.  

"Is this what it's come to brother?"  Commando X asked.

"Shut-Up X, the man wants to tap a white-girl, let 'im", cut in Holocaust.  

"You shut-up Holly!  This ain't your business.  This is Nur Allah business", Commando X hissed.

"That's the issue, X", said Wise-Son, "there IS no Nur Allah.  They're all dead or disbanded."

"No they're not!  As long as you and me are alive, so is the 'Light'.  'Light of God' remember?  That's what it means!  You took an oath!"  Commando X slammed his fist on the table.  This made just about everyone in the dining room stop and look.  He lowered his voice and said, "You took an oath to uphold all our ways."

"Yeah", said Wise-Son, "Like: 'It's a cold world, Blood – NO MERCY'?  Or how about: 'The white man is the devil'?  Or your personal favorite: 'Every brother ain't a brother, unless he's a BLOOD-brother'?  Huh?  Is that what you mean X?  Well, you know what?  All of that is bull-sh*t.  It always was.  I can see clearly now."

"Bull-sh*t?" Commando X looked Wise-Son incredulously.  "You sayin' the Bloods were bull-sh*t?  Your dead homies… bull-sh*t?"

"No, but most of the stuff we were livin' for was bull-sh*t."  Wise-Son looked at Holocaust, Static, and Commando X.  "Look at us, if the gas wouldn't have killed our homies, what were they goin' to do?"

"Murder each other", said Static.

"Shut the f*ck up Virgil, you ain't never been a Paris Blood", Commando X was furious. "You a phoney mutha-f*cka from the start.  Li'l buster, mark-a** b*tch!"

"I don't think so thug-boy!  Watch your mouth", crooned in Jubilee.  "Just because he's not a killer like you, and actually wants to use his powers to HELP people, doesn't make him weak."

"Jubilee", Wise-Son said, "Butt out."  The three shocked girls all looked at Wise-Son. "This is a conversation that has been long in coming, but we don't have much time for. (Looking at the Blood Syndicate members) The last time I checked, I was still in charge. I didn't form Blood Syndicate just to keep the Paris Bloods alive, or to keep bangin' over cash-money and ho's."

"Then why'd you do it?" asked Holocaust.  "You and Fade been runnin' the whole f*cken show.  I thought we came together to take over Dakota, not run around bein' super-cops!"

"Holly, X…", said Wise-Son, "I love you guys.  Ya'll been my brothers for years.  But this sh*t has got to end some time.  The old days ended as soon as the gas came down.  We were all going to kill each other over bull-sh*t.  ALL of us should have died, but we got a second chance.  We cleaned up Paris Island, but what are we going to do with it?"

"Run it", said Holocaust.  "Look man, I ain't in no mood to play super-hero.  I'm just gonna get that money, pull them ho's, and f*ck anybody up that wants to take mines.  Man, f*ck the WORLD if they can't adjust."

"That's fine for you Holly", continued Wise-Son, "but I know that we've been given these powers for a reason.  All that time I was runnin' around with 'Nur Allah', Light of God… I never really saw the light.  Every brother IS a brother, and it don't matter what gang, what color, whatever he is.  Blood Syndicate already proved that the old gang wars were bull-sh*t.  We all came from different gangs, but it's the Big Bang that made us see past that."

"And what now?" asked Commando X.  "Put aside everything? For what?"

"For our lives, Howell."  The other girls, staying wisely silent, smirked slightly at hearing Commando X's real name.  "It's time we stopped fightin' against everything, and started fightin' FOR something."  Static smiled as Wise-Son continued to speak.  Wise-Son outlined the assault plan for the fellow Syndicate members.  The girls were interested in the details too, especially Jubes and Marie.  Jubilee held Static's hand tightly and rested her head on his shoulders, as he assured her that he would take every safety precaution possible.  Wise-Son then dropped the bombshell on the group: That only he, Cyclops, and Wolverine would be infiltrating Alva Industries.  The other Syndicate Members protested.

"You kiddin' me Wise?" said Holocaust.  "N*gga I could just blow the whole sh*t up!  That's bull-sh*t!  You don't know what them mutha-f*ckaz got in there!"

"I thought you weren't concerned with anything but getting 'money and hos'?" asked Marie.

"I was 'til he told me we was gettin' back at that Alva b*tch.  We owe that mutha-f*cka some SERIOUS payback.  Money and ho's can wait."

"Look guys", said Wise-Son, "we can't just blow the place up because we need to get some stuff from there."

"The data?" asked Static.

"Yep.  We're going to do two things, make a copy to a disk or CD, and then UPLOAD it to every major message board and news site on the internet.  Alva's world is going to come crashing down."

"It'll be a whole new world for us!" said Static, as he hugged Jubilee.

"Assuming you live through it", said Commando X, "Wise, I want to go with you.  Brother, you and I may not see eye-to-eye, but you gonna need a n*gga who can bring some serious heat."

"Maybe he's right Hannibal", said Marie.  Everyone was taken by surprise by the fact that Marie used his real name, and how Wise-Son didn't seem affected at all. Instead, his eyes seem to soften as he looked at her.  "You should take some more people."

"No Marie, we're trying to sneak in, and get in the least amount of fights as possible.  Don't worry about me.  Remember, I'm invulnerable right?"

"Right", she said.  And the group kept on discussing the pending assault all throughout dinner. Wise-Son told the Syndicate members that they didn't have to be a part of the attack if they chose not to do so.  Commando X and Holocaust quickly agreed to do it (quite happily), but Static hesitated.  Wise-Son asked them all to think about it overnight, and asked Static to speak to him later in private (after dinner).  Conspicuously absent from dinner were Bobby Drake and St. John Allerdyce – who had been suspended from school and had their meals taken to their rooms.  St. John may even face expulsion, but the Professor hadn't made that decision yet.  He was hoping for a change in attitude from the young man.  Unlike Bobby Drake, who seemed genuinely remorseful, St. John didn't seem to want to take the blame for ANY of his actions – and continuously blamed others.

~~~~~~~~  

Later that night, Scott Summers returned with Static's and Wise-Son's families.  The two families stepped off of the Blackbird, followed by Scott and Rev. Larsen.  Wise-Son, Static, along with Jubilee, Marie, Logan, and Jean Grey greeted them.

"MOM!!!"  Static ran up to his mother and almost knocked off her feet in a bear hug.  His mom just held him tight, as did his sister.  Jubilee quietly waited for the trio to disengage so she could introduce herself.

Wise-Son didn't have to run to his family, since his son Edmund and his little sister Cordelia ran and almost tackled him.  "Daddeeeee!" the little boy squealed.  Wise-Son's mother came up and gave her son a hug at the same time.  She turned to look at Marie and spoke:

"Is this the young lady the Rev'rund been tellin' me about, Hannibal?" She spoke in a southern accent that was reminiscent of everyone Marie knew back in Mississippi.  "She's a good one son."

"Thank you", said Marie, "Nice to meet you as well. I'm Marie…"

"Oh I know your name, child", said Wise-Son's mother.  The heavyset black woman lowered her glasses.  "And don't you be callin' me Mrs. Bruce.  Call me 'Momma', seein' as we gonna be kin anyhow?"

"Ummmm Momma…" Wise-Son blurted in nervously, "Why don't you follow the others and take Edmund and Cordelia to their rooms."  Mrs. Bruce wasn't paying him much attention.  She was speaking with Marie and Jean Grey, who had just barely pried herself from kissing Scott as soon as he got off the plane.  Logan and Reverend Larsen were speaking and catching up on Dakota's events, with Logan casting an ever-mindful eye at Wise-Son and Marie.  There was so much he wanted to tell them both, but that would have to wait.  Tomorrow night they were traveling to Dakota, so this matter could wait.  Marie was playing with Edmund, who had taken a genuine liking to her.  It was easy to love Edmund, since he was the cutest 2-1/2 yr old on the planet – just ask his father.  

When they all left, Wise-Son remained behind with Marie.  He had told her to leave as well, but she didn't, waiting for them to be alone.  "Hannibal", she said, taking his hand into hers, "you're hiding something from me."

"What me?" asked Wise-Son.  "No, I'm just glad that my family's here, safe and sound."

"Don't lie to me Hannibal."

"I'm not… I mean, I'm…"

"Yes?"

Wise-Son looked like a deer caught in headlights.  He fumbled in his pocket for a moment and pulled out his hand - clutched in a fist.  "Marie, I didn't want to give this to you until AFTER we got back from Dakota.  Let it wait until then."

"No Hannibal, tell me now.  I guarantee you that my feelings aren't going to change in a couple days.  Tell me now."  Marie's insides were bursting apart.  *Jubilee is going to die when she hears this!*, she thought.  She could barely contain her emotions, and began to breathe unconsciously faster.  Wise-Son drew her into a close embrace, and opened his hand, to reveal a platinum ornate wedding band.

"This belonged to my grandma, and I asked my Mom to bring it with her. (taking her left hand into his right hand) Marie… will… you… marry… me?"  

And with that… Marie's mind was completely blown. She had to remember to breathe, and almost stopped breathing again.  She barely composed herself, tears starting to stream down her face, and answered,  "Yes… Yes… I'll marry you."  Wise-Son slipped the ring onto her finger – a perfect fit.  The two lovers kissed as the world spun around them.  When their lips parted, albeit slightly, she whispered, "Why wait until you get back, isn't the Reverend here now?"

"Now?" asked Wise-Son incredulously.

"Now.  Hannibal Bruce", she whispered, "I want to make love to you… as your wife… tonight… and forever."  Wise-Son nodded and kissed her again.

"As so it will be…" he whispered, and took her by the hand.  The two of them had already become "one flesh" in their hearts.  It was time to declare it before the world.  The next few hours were tumultuous.  Wise-Son speedily got Reverend Larsen, his mother, sister, and son to Professor Xavier's office.  Marie barely broke the news to Kitty and Jubilee, and the three erupted into a fit of crying, giggling, and OhmyGod's.  Jubilee could barely breathe, which made her hiccup as she spoke.  Kitty was able to calm her down, but then burst into tears herself, all the while hugging Marie in congratulations.

~~~~~~~~~  

A small audience was assembled in the ornate conference room adjoining Professor Xavier's office:  The Reverend Tat Larsen, Wise-Son's family, Scott Summers and Jean Grey, Logan, Static and his family, Jubilee, Kitty, Ororo Munro, Holocaust, and Commando X.  The service was short, that is, except the "short" sermon given by Rev. Larsen.  Marie was dressed in a white "prom-gown" type dress, borrowed from Jean.  Jean hadn't worn it in eight years, and it looked better on Marie than she ever remembered it looking on her.  Wise-Son was dressed in a black tuxedo.  It seemed that Professor Xavier had an entire wardrobe selection available for any of his frequent guests:  a luxury of being so wealthy.  Marie held a hastily assembled bouquet – courtesy of Jean and Ororo.  Mrs. Bruce and Mrs. Hawkins (Static's mom) were mutually crying. Moms!

As the Bride and Groom faced each other, the Reverend spoke:  "Dearly Beloved: We are gathered here, in the presence of God and of this company, that Hannibal and Marie may be united in holy matrimony. We are here to celebrate and share in the glorious act that God is about to perform - the act by which He converts their love for one another into the holy and sacred estate of marriage.  This relationship is an honorable and sacred one, established by our Creator.  May it be in extreme thoughtfulness and reverence, and in dependence upon divine guidance, that you enter now into this holy relationship."

(Turning to the audience) "Being assured that your love and your choice of each other as lifelong companions are in God's will and that you have your families' blessings, I now ask. Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

"I do", said Logan, before Professor Xavier could answer. He stepped forward, and stood beside Professor Xavier, looking into Marie's eyes.  

Marie silently mouthed the words, "Thank You", and "I love you" to him.  He nodded and smiled, affirming he loved her as well. 

Revered Larsen continued, as Wise-Son and Marie looked into each other's eyes: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails....  This kind of love enriches each part of life, and marriage enriches love. Two lives, shared with this kind of love, can hold more fulfillment and happiness than either life alone.  

(Turning to Wise-Son) Hannibal, are you ready to enter into this marriage with Marie, believing the love you share and your faith in each other will endure all things?"

"I am", replied Wise-Son, never looking away from Marie.

(Turning to Marie) Rev. Larsen asked, "Marie, are you ready to enter into this marriage with Hannibal, believing the love you share and your faith in each other will endure all things?"

"I am", replied Marie, whose brown eyes stared into the eyes of the man who would be her husband.

The Reverend cleared his throat and pronounced to Wise-Son, "Hannibal, do you take Marie to be your wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in holy matrimony? Do you promise to love her, to honor and cherish her, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and to be to her in all things a good and faithful husband as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." He answered.

"Marie, do you take Hannibal to be your wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in holy matrimony? Do you promise to love her, to honor and cherish her, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, and to be to her in all things a good and faithful wife as long as you both shall live?"

"I do", she answered.

The two of them joined hands and the Reverend prayed, "Father in heaven, You ordained marriage for your children, and You gave us love. We present to You Hannibal and Marie, who come this day to be married. May the covenant of love they make be blessed with true devotion and spiritual commitment. We ask that You, will give them the ability to keep the covenant they have made. When selfishness shows itself, grant generosity; when mistrust is a temptation, give moral strength; when there is misunderstanding, give patience and gentleness; if suffering becomes a part of their lives, give them a strong faith and an abiding love. Amen."

"Amen" all responded.  Jean and Scott looked into each other's eyes, wondering how long they could wait until they too were wed.  Six months was not all that long from now, but being at the impromptu wedding, watching two younger people publicly make a vow that Scott and Jean had also already made in their own hearts… it was going to be a lot harder to wait six more months.

After the exchange of wedding rings, supplied by the wealthy Professor Xavier, and the lighting of a Unity Candle (in which Marie and Wise-Son each held their own candles, and lit another single candle by joining their flames together over it), the Reverend spoke one last time: "What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as Hannibal and Marie have consented together in holy matrimony, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and have pledged their love and loyalty to each other, and have declared the same by the joining and the giving of rings, I, therefore, by the authority of this state, pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ." 

"The Groom may now kiss the Bride…" but it was too late, the newly married couple were already kissing.  The others laughed, cried, and applauded.  When the two newlyweds broke their embrace, they were greeted by friends and family alike.  Logan walked up to Wise-Son and clasped his hand tightly.

"You're getting a good woman there.  Take care of her", he said, barely holding back his own tear.  Marie reached in and hugged the first man she ever loved.  She embraced Logan and he looked into her eyes and saw something that he'd never seen in them before:  true happiness.  After she released him, Hannibal took her by the hand and led them into the small crowd of well-wishers.  Logan stood back and eventually left the revelry of the conference room and stepped out onto the balcony.  So deep in thought was he that he didn't notice the person who walked up and touched his shoulder.

"Huh?" he said, turning around to see Scott Summers.

"It's great to be back right?" said Scott with a wry smirk.

"Yeah, man, peachy", said Logan, "I go away for six months, almost get killed by some crazy tear gas… get back… fight a bunch of super-powered street thugs… (Logan now clenched his fists) and then the only person that I've genuinely loved in what little time I can remember… marries somebody else.  Heh-heh, yeah.  It's GREAT to be back, One-Eye."

Scott didn't say anything at first.  He just watched Logan take in a difficult breath and let him release it before he spoke. "You know, when I first saw Jean, my knees went weak.  I knew that if I could just get her to speak to me, my world would suddenly make sense.  But she had eyes for Warren, Mr. Blond-Super guy.  He was rich, and he could fly – literally.  The guy had wings..."

"This goin' somewhere Scott?"  

"Yeah.  Eventually, I stopped going after her, and tried to convince myself that she and I weren't meant to be together. I became her best friend, and after a year of ups and downs, she and Warren broke up."

"And you were there to catch her."

"No Logan. I was there for her, period.  You see, I already loved Jean.  I loved her so much that I just wanted to see her happy, with or without me.  Even though I never said so, my actions spoke louder than my words.  It was another year before Jean confessed she loved me too."

"Is that when you got that mental thingy with her?"

"The link?  Actually that happened about four months after we met, while she was still dating Warren.  We went on a camping trip, and she had almost drowned in a river.  I remember her mind reaching out as she went under the water.  I just jumped in and swam as hard as I could.  The only thing I cared about was making sure that Jean was alive.  When I pulled her out, she wasn't breathing.  I cleared her airways, and started mouth to mouth.  But nothing happened.  Logan, I started to cry.  I mean it.  I was cryin' my eyes out, with every ounce of will in my heart, my mind… I don't know if it was her mind reaching mine, or mine reaching hers… but mentally I just begged for one thing: for Jean to live. And her eyes popped open and she began to breathe.  We held each other, and communicated mentally for about an hour before anybody else reached us."  
        "Thanks Scott, I feel much better now. (he said sarcastically)"

"Logan, my point is that if you love someone so much that you're willing to die for them… you have to willing to live for them as well.  Marie loves you, you know that…"

"And I blew it."

"Did you?  You literally saved her life, and gave her something to live for, and somebody to love.  And you loved her back, loved her when everyone else in the world that was SUPPOSED to love her abandoned her.  Logan, you poured so much love into that girl, that now she's just pouring it on someone else – walking in your footsteps."

"So I taught her to love like that?"

"Yes.  And she's teaching Hannibal.  Logan, those two owe you a lifetime debt.  Continue to love her now… and be happy for her."

"You know what?" Logan turned to Scott, almost smiling, taking in another deep breath, "I can see why Chuck made you the leader, Scott.  You're real.  (He clasped Scott's hand in a tight handshake)  I'll be proud to fight and die alongside you."

"Well, let's try to fight and LIVE tomorrow night, ok?"

"Ok."

"The whole world is full of possibilities, Logan.  You just have to keep your eyes open."

"Yeah", replied Logan, and caught Ororo looking at him as he and Scott walked back into the conference room.  She smiled sweetly, and quickly averted her eyes – trying to act like she wasn't staring.  "Yeah, Scott… you said it.  The world is FULL of possibilities."

**Author's Note:  Sorry this was so long, but it's been long in coming.  And the end is coming soon – an all action sequel to this all-relationship chapter.  Please be patient for the conclusion in "All Good Things… Part 2".**


	11. 10 All Good Things Part 2

ALL GOOD THINGS… part 2 

April 2002

She would never see him again.  Even though it had been three weeks since he had died, it was only starting to hit her now.  With all the things that had gone on for the last three weeks – the wake, the memorials, accepting awards from the city of Dakota and the Federal government, meeting the President – there was no time to truly mourn.  But now, alone in her room at the mansion, clutching the videotape the way a man would clutch his last dollar… her body began to shudder violently.  Waves of pain, anguish, and desperation slammed into her… building and building as they washed over her.  

He'd never walk through those doors ever again.  He'd never smile at her again.  He'd never be there to play the fearless hero. She knew he was never fearless, and in the end… he turned out to be mortal after all.  Her eyes welled up with tears again, and she cried out to a God that she wasn't sure was listening to her.  She wailed the word that's familiar to all the mothers of terminally ill children.  It is the word that sits on the tongues of sudden widows, sudden orphans, and helpless victims.  "**WHY?!?!**"

But the silence offered no solace.  The sound of the wind rustling the window-blinds was all that answered her.  She composed herself enough to pull the videotape out of its sleeve.  With a calmness that betrayed her inner panic, she slipped the videotape into her VCR, and waited for an eternity before exhaling a breath and pressing PLAY.  As his voice wafted into her ears, she squinted her eyes, fighting back another fresh round of tears.  Through blurry, tear-soaked vision she stared at his face: a face she would never see again.

Wearing Logan's dog tags and clutching her wedding ring, she openly wept aloud.  Her mind raced back to that day, over three weeks ago.  My… how quickly fortunes can change.  Instead of a lifetime to enjoy each other… all she had left… was memories.

March 2002

It was such a simple plan, Scott thought to himself as he piloted the Blackbird on its way to Dakota.  Next to him sat Logan, a.k.a. Wolverine, and behind him were Jean Grey, Storm, Holocaust, Commando X, and the newlywed Hannibal Bruce, a.k.a. Wise-Son (Static opted NOT to come on the mission – actually, Wise-Son ordered Static not to go).  Scott glanced at the youngster, and noting his pensive face.  Wise-Son was lost in his own thoughts too, mostly about Marie.  Scott knew that in order to pull this off, they were ALL going to have to be thinking clearly. 

Team 1, headed by Jean Grey and Storm, would meet up with the Blood Syndicate.  A top Syndicate lieutenant named Fade would lead the group to S.H.R.E.D. headquarters, where the Blood Syndicate would assault the complex.  The psi-dampening towers would be hit first.  In order to mentally force the S.H.R.E.D. employees to confess their sins on national t.v., those towers would have to be destroyed.  The rest of the strike would be diversionary.  Team 1 would draw the majority of S.H.R.E.D. and Alva security forces over to the complex, while Team 2 would make its move.  Wolverine's training in stealth and infiltration would shine here, sneaking past Alva's security in the glass towers that housed the most powerful and feared corporation on this side of the continent.  Any resistance would have to be eliminated with extreme prejudice – much to Scott's disliking.  But hell, Wolverine was indeed the right man for the job.  Get to the computer, do our thing, and get out.  Real simple… but nothing ever works out as simply as you expect it to, does it?

~~~~~~~~~~

"That's the place up the street, about a mile further", said Fade, pointing to the large silvery building.  The HUGE wall plaque read "**S**.**H**.**R**.**E**.**D**.: **S**pecial **H**eavy-equipment **R**apid **E**mergency **D**ivision – **Keeping Dakota Safe In the New Millennium**."  Fade floated a bit closer to the building, into the street, and out of the alleyway that hid his clandestine strike team.  

"Don't blow our cover", Jean said.  "Get back over here and wait for the signal (from Scott).  As soon as he signals us, then we go into action."

"Lady, this thing may be all business to you", replied Fade, "but for me and the homies, this sh*t's personal."  The other Syndicate members expressed their agreement… actually they just cursed and called Jean many variations of "cracker-a** b*tch", but they agreed with Fade none-the-less. 

"You listen to me, 'chico'", Jean said through clenched teeth, "this SH*T'S personal for me as well. You are NOT going to endanger the lives of Scott and the others just because your panties are in a bunch and you want to hit somebody!  Got it?"

"Ok, Ok, lady…" Fade backed into the alleyway.  "I just want to get this over with.  These SHRED f*ckers are gonna pay big time for what they did to Templo."

"Just remember, there's more at stake here than just revenge", Storm said in her usual soothing manner.  "If this goes the way we've planned, you and all your friends might be able to live out your lives in the open, not hiding like wanted fugitives. And you and your entire city will be able to make Alva Industries pay for the damage and loss of life after the Big Bang."  Fade gave her a knowing nod. This was going to be for all the marbles.  Most residents in Paris Island had their lawsuits tied up in court because there was absolutely no official evidence pinning the Big Bang fiasco to anyone except the dead mayor.  If these X-Men's plan worked, the blame for the Big Bang's death toll would be removed from the Blood Syndicate survivors, and placed squarely on the shoulders of Alva Industries.

"Jean, we're in place.  Alva HQ is in our sights, and we need your team to begin the diversionary assault."  Scott's voice crackled in the X-Men's communicators.  Even though the private frequency was electronic, those psi-towers were still interfering with the reception.

"Acknowledged Scott", Jean said. "And Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you more."  Jean smiled and turned the communicator off.  Her smile was quickly replaced by an ice-cold stare as she glared at the S.H.R.E.D. complex.  

"Fade, Holocaust", she said, turning to the two top-ranking Syndicate members, "Listen up to me, and listen good.  When we hit S.H.R.E.D. make sure that there are absolutely NO civilian casualties.  Do everything you have to do to DISARM them first.  ONLY use lethal force if it's absolutely necessary. You guys got that?  No murders!"

The two super-human gang members just nodded in agreement.  At this point, they were learning that Jean Grey was NOT someone they wanted to mess with.  Jean nodded to Storm, who stepped out of the alleyway and into the teeming Dakota streets.  With a wave of her hand, a small tornado literally appeared in front of her.  Three parked Dakota police cruisers were lifted high into the air.  The police cars hovered high above the office building. Then, with a force that could only be described as super-human, the cars were slammed into the bases of the two psi-dampening towers topping the S.H.R.E.D. offices.  The explosions were impressive, sending shards of glass and pools of ignited gasoline flying off the rooftops, but Jean could tell that it had no effect on the towers' ability to block her powers.  

The rest of the Syndicate sprung into action.  Alarm sirens went off as soon as Storm's attack had begun.  Police troopers streamed out of the building, clad in full battle armor.  Holocaust broke away from the rest of the Syndicate and quickly set up a flaming perimeter around the front of the building.  The walls of flame were so intense, that most of the police troopers had to immediately retreat to the front steps of the building.  The other Syndicate members quickly set up positions from which to isolate and pulverize their targets.

Meanwhile, Team 2 (Cyclops, Wolverine, and Wise-Son) had just made it to the rear fence of the Alva Industries headquarters compound.  To call it huge was an understatement.  The nearly ten-acre campus had sprawling landscapes, high security fences, patrol vehicles, and even helicopters that weaved in and out of the shiny glass towers in the center of the grounds.  Jean radioed Scott on a secure frequency and let him know that the preliminary attack was already under way, with the Syndicate already taking up easily defensible positions. 

"Jean, be very careful.  Try to minimize civilian casualties because the press will be all over it."

"And the ONLY reason to protect civilians, Scott?"

"No, of course not Jean", Scott suppressed a smile, "but there's no need to make ourselves look bad while we're busy playing the heroes!"

"You know you're MY hero Mr. Summers. (The sound of a loud explosion could be heard behind her) Scott, I've got to go.  S.H.R.E.D. is mounting a counter offensive with some sort of explosives!"

"Be careful Jean", Scott said, "Let the Blood Syndicate crush the opposition.  Just make sure they concentrate on taking out as much **S.H.R.E.D.** hardware as possible."

"I will." And with that, the radio crackled and the transmission ended.  The Blood Syndicate's attack was in full swing.  Fade easily broke through the S.H.R.E.D. troopers' ranks (since they can't touch him) and wreaked havoc as he passed through their vehicles and equipment, ripping out important components.  DMZ and Third-Rail, two Blood Syndicate bruisers, were busy smashing police cars and armored vehicles, throwing troopers against walls like rag dolls, and just generally beating the crap out of anyone that got near them.  Bullets and taser-shots merely bounced off of DMZ, whereas Third-Rail absorbed the electrical and kinetic energy to make himself stronger.  He also grew in size and stature as he absorbed more punishment.  When he reached about 10 feet weighing in at about half a ton, the police just STOPPED attacking this guy altogether.  

Holocaust could have just burned the troopers as they poured out of the building, but instead he firebombed the outer offices and structures.  He even set the roof on fire, along with the balconies and every fire escape.  Storm helped matters by shattering all the windows with a lighting storm and causing a blackout in the building.  As the generators kicked in, she kept hitting the structure with lighting – causing surges and power spikes to destroy the inner circuitry of the building.  

A Blood Syndicate member named Aquamaria, who possessed complete control over water and moisture, caused the internal plumbing of the building to explode, drenching every floor with hundreds of gallons of water.  The resulting steam (due to Holocaust's flames) choked out the remaining troopers.  More and more of them poured out of the front of the building.

"Maria, what the f*ck are you doing?" yelled Holocaust.

"I'm trying to stop you from killing everybody, _cabron_. Your firestorms were getting too big."

"My fires were just fine… Puerto-Rican b*tch. Drowning them suckaz ain't no better."

"Watch what you call the lady", said Fade, "And her idea is very good.  The steam on every floor is forcing the civilian people out of the building through the only exit we're allowing – THE REAR PARKING LOT.  PLUS, the steam takes away the snipers' advantage."

"So would deep-frying 'em."

"True, but Holly…", replied Fade, "Frying 'em isn't what we're trying to do.  Look up there." Fade pointed up at the dozen or so news helicopters that dotted the sky above the S.H.R.E.D. building.  CNN, NBC, ABC, FoxNews… everyone was there for the party. "We're on PRIME TIME baby, so we got to look good!"  Fade then flew (or rather floated) back into the fray. 

It seemed that everything was going as they expected.  S.H.R.E.D. officers called in more armored RIOT vehicles, forming a perimeter in front of the building.  They began a counter-attack on the Syndicate, but it was more-or-less ineffective against the super-humans.  The civilian employees were herded out the back.  The Syndicate blocked the evacuating civilians' escape about 1 block down from the parking lot, virtually corralling them into the rear lot.  Debris and fires blocked all other nearby city blocks off, and only the police and the media were getting through. Surprisingly, regular Dakota PD units were almost untouched.  As they surrounded the civilians in the rear parking lot, the Syndicate members almost ignored them, but they didn't let them escape either.  Meanwhile, up front, SHRED was being manhandled.  The only glitch in the plan was that SYSTEM hadn't showed up at all.

Back at the compound, Wolverine, Scott, and Wise-Son used their powers in unique ways to outsmart and sneak into the facility undetected – or so they thought.  Wolverine lead the way as they crept through the outer compound yards, perfectly timing their movements between guard patrols.  His adamantium claws literally sliced through an electrical fence and then sliced through the outer wall of the main compound building hidden behind some bushes.  "Easy as can be", Wolverine said.  According to the layouts that Cyclops had of the place, their entry point was supposed to be a supply closet.  But as soon as they stepped inside the building, ALL hell broke loose.  The three mutants found themselves in the back of the main building's lobby, which was seemingly deserted.  "Uh-oh", was all Wolverine said… as a hundred armed guards came streaming from the second-floor and out of the elevators.  Cyclops muttered a curse word under his breath, then placed a hand next to his temple.  He dialed up a low yield setting on his visor and fired in a wide arc.  As he panned his head from left to right, his ruby-red concussive beam slammed all the security personnel against the back walls.  Some went flying through desks, others landed in lobby fountains, and a few flew into an open elevator and were slammed unconscious against its rear wall.  

"So much for the quiet and easy way", Scott said as he shook his head and led the threesome to the service elevator.  He motioned to Wise-Son to grab three of the officers.  Wise-Son easily hefted the prone bodies of three guards, as Cyclops blasted every security camera in sight.  Wolverine and Wise-Son piled the bodies into the elevator and sent it up to the top floor.  "These guys will be VERY temporary decoys.  We're going in the other way."  They headed to the rear maintenance stairwells, and started climbing up flights of stairs.  Upon reaching the third floor, they discovered another open area connecting this floor with the floor above it – sort of a secondary lobby.  Unfortunately, they had no time to admire the fine architecture and beautiful décor, as two darkened glass doors opened and out walked a cadre of machine-gun toting guards.  At the center of the group, two-dozen men, clad in some kind of metallic battle-armor, train some very unconventional looking weapons on the heroes.  The armor was more like robotic appendages, in that it added over a foot in height to their legs, extended their arms with claw-like metal gloves, and completely covered their heads, shoulders, and torsos with an exoskeleton and armor plating.  

A voice that sounded more like a robot's than a human's yelled, "SYSTEMatics, assault!"  And with that, the armored troops unleashed a barrage of photonic (light-based) weaponry at the mutants.  Wolverine was the first to leap out the way, taking cover behind a marble sculpture.  Cyclops followed suit, taking cover and leveling the human guards with more wide beamed stun-shots.  Wolverine then spun to his left and leapt at the nearest human guards, his claws ripping through their machine guns. He felt the sting and impacts of bullets through his torso, but ignored the pain and slashed at the guards with sickening ease.  His claws sliced and ripped through human flesh, metal, and body armor like it was paper.  He was literally spinning in the middle of a large group of armed guards who were spraying pools of blood as they went down like dominoes.  The sheer ferocity of the attack had its desired effect – the remaining conscious guards turned tail and ran for their lives. Cyclops stifled a gasp at the sight of the carnage, realizing that this was combat, not a training mission.  

Wise-Son ran straight at the SYSTEMatics.  Wolverine wasn't going to risk getting hit by their weapons, but Wise-Son shrugged off the shots like they were harmless beams from a flashlight.  He leapt at the first SYSTEMatic and clamped his hands on the trooper's helmet plating.  With a strength that defied his stature, he ripped the helmet and shoulder plating off of the trooper.  Unfortunately, the exoskeleton was attached and harnessed to the human's body inside, and the man's head and shoulders were also ripped off of his body as well.  Cyclops didn't know what he found more distasteful, the sight of a human carcass spewing blood and flailing all over the floor, or the utter look of indifference on Wise-Son's and Wolverine's faces as they killed enemy combatants.  If the two of them were affected by their actions, they weren't showing it.  

The other SYSTEMatics closed in around Wise-Son and made futile attempts to rip him apart with their claws.  Some of them kept dialing up different weapons from their armor and laid into him with all kinds of ballistic and energy attacks.  It looked kind of comical, watching a group of SYSTEMatics surrounding and pummeling Wise-Son with all matter of weaponry, and watching him ignore it as he ripped various appendages and armor plating off of his attackers.  Four SYSTEMatics trained their weapons on Cyclops and Wolverine.  Wolverine deftly dodged the shots from the Gatling-gun style weapon that one of the troopers wielded.  He rolled closer to that trooper and leapt downward at the SYSTEMatic's legs.  Adamantium claws sliced the legs off of the man and made him fall down hard on the tiled floor.  The trooper still had it in him to point his weapon at the kneeling Wolverine.  With desperation in his eyes, the trooper opened fire at Wolverine's chest, bursting it open and exposing the adamantium bone plating underneath.  Wolverine roared in pain, and lunged at the SYSTEMatic - embedding his claws into the man's neck.  With a quick swipe of his arm, the trooper's left side of his neck exploded, spraying a crimson mural on the walls.  

The other three SYSTEMatics were about to obliterate the already-healing Wolverine, when they were suddenly smacked with a ruby colored beam of light.  The beam hit all three troopers dead-on.  Wolverine had to avert his eyes to shield himself from the bright flash.  When he opened his eyes, all he saw were the boots and legs of his three attackers.  Their remains and entrails were strewn all over the rear walls of the lobby.  Cyclops walked over to him, eye's still glowing under his visor, and helped him up.  "You okay", he asked.

Wolverine glanced at the splattered remains of their attackers, and then saw the grim expression Cyclops's face.  "I'm fine, just hurts when I laugh.  Are YOU okay?"

Cyclops raised his head and said evenly, "I'll never be okay with this."

"Good.  At least one of us will keep his humanity when this is all over."  The words brought no comfort to the X-Men's leader.  He was kind of glad that Jean couldn't get a read on his mind right now.  Would she understand his actions?  Would she understand that this was a life-or-death struggle – with ALL combatants clear on the implications?  He chose Wolverine and Wise-Son to be part of this strike team because they possessed something that the other X-Men simply lacked: a true killer instinct and a soldier's sensibility when it came to taking life in combat.  They didn't have to like what they were doing, and, in fact, it was better that way.  But the fact is that they COULD and WOULD kill if necessary – something he knew the other X-Men weren't capable of doing.  He looked back at Wise-Son, who was busy snapping the neck of the last SYSTEMatic.  Wise-Son surveyed the damage: ripped limbs, pools of blood, heads strewn about… and nary a scratch on him (though his jacket was badly tattered and soiled.  

Cyclops turned on his communicator and hailed Jean. "Jean, can you hear me… what's happening?"

"Scott", Jean's voice came through the static, "We're doing well on our end. SHRED is almost completely defeated.  But those towers are harder to take down than we thought."

"Let Holocaust loose on those things.  We have to take them down for this to work."

"But Scott, The heat might kill us all as well, unless…" Jean trailed off.  She them ordered Holocaust to melt those towers. Holocaust grinned wide and stretched out his hand.  Flames didn't leap out, but his fingers glowed eerily.  The towers began to smoke, as the entire rooftop of the SHRED headquarters burst into a firestorm of heat, flames, and toxic fumes.  "Storm, funnel the smoke and fumes away from the city!"

Storm's eyes glazed white as a huge vortex-like tornado opened up above the towers.  The smoke and flames were being sucked up into the maelstrom, and being jutted out into the atmosphere thousands of feet above the city.  Normally, a storm like this would douse the flaming towers, but Holocaust continued to make the towers burn – and burn they did.  The towers weren't even completely destroyed when Jean felt the sudden onslaught of everyone's thoughts and emotions.  She let out a loud gasp as she struggled to put up mental shields.

"Jean, what's happening? Are you okay?"  Scott could only imagine what was going on.  Jean's sudden gasping painted all manner of horrific thoughts in his mind.

"I'm fine Scott, the towers are down. Time for phase two of the plan."

"Good work Jean.  I'll call you again as soon as we reach our objective."

"Okay Scott.  And remember Scott, no matter what happens, no matter what you have to do in that place… I'll always love you."  Scott almost jumped out of his skin at Jean's words.  He knew that this compound still had functioning Psi-towers – so Jean couldn't be reading his mind.  But then again, he knew she always could read his heart. 

"Thank you Jean.  I love you too."  He clicked off the communicator. Turning to his teammates, he asked, "We need a quick way to the top floor of this compound. I DO NOT intend to do this kind of fighting on every floor."

Wolverine walked past some dead bodies over to the elevators.  "Cyclops, do these elevators go all the way to the top floor?"

"Yes they do, but Alva's security will shut them down as soon as we get in them. We already tried using an elevator as a decoy, and you see how well THAT worked (pointing at the corpses)."

"We're not going to use them as decoys, we're going straight up to the top!" Wolverine pressed the button and the elevator doors opened. He chose the second floor and stepped out of the elevator as the doors closed behind him.

"I don't get it", said Wise-Son, "You sent the elevator downstairs without anyone in it?  Why?"

"Watch and learn kid."  Wolverine then sliced the doors wide open, revealing the TOP of the elevator and its cable.  "All aboard the Logan Express", he yelled.

"That's one way to get to the top."  Cyclops stepped inside the elevator shaft and grabbed one of the elevator cables.  Wise-Son did the same.  "Wise-Son, when Wolverine cuts the other cable, we're going to be sent hurtling upwards towards the ceiling.  Before we hit the ceiling of this shaft, YOU have to stop our movement by grabbing the other cable.  You got that?"

"Yeah, yeah.  Don't let you guys get splattered. Got it."  Wolverine stepped into the elevator shaft.  And grabbed the same cable as Cyclops.  He sliced the other elevator cable with a quick swipe.  Immediately, the elevator plummeted downward, sending the threesome flying upward at breakneck speeds.  The shaft's ceiling closed in on them fast.  Wise-Son then grabbed the other cable and gently began slowing their ascent by applying pressure to the cable.  As they neared the ceiling, he grabbed the cable tightly, and abruptly stopped them from smacking the ceiling full speed – just 8 feet above them.  Wolverine popped his claws, but instead of slicing through the outer elevator doors, he climbed to the ceiling and sliced through a section of it.  "What are you doing?"

"Going into their OTHER elevator shaft", Wolverine replied.  He heaved himself up to ANOTHER elevator shaft, and pulled Cyclops up.  Wise-Son just released the other elevator, and was basically slammed against the ceiling with a sickening thud.  Instead of killing him, it just made it easier for him to climb up to the other shaft.  He stared at Wolverine with a 'how-did-you-know?' look.  "These buildings never have elevators that go all the way up to the top.  They ALWAYS stop a few floors down, and then you need some type of security clearance to access the penthouse floors."

"Good thinking", Cyclops said.  "This shaft only seems to have three levels.  We'll have to climb to the next one, and go up a flight of stairs to reach the top." When the three of them climbed up and cut through the outer elevator doors, they half expected the hallways to be full of SYSTEMatics.  Instead, they found it eerily silent. They walked rather un-stealthily to the rear stairwell.  They then walked up a flight of stairs to the top floor.  Before they opened the door, Wolverine stopped them.  

"Wait… I smell something on the other side of this door.  Gun oil, ammo, some kind of steel alloy… it's SYSTEMatics."

"How many of them are there?" Cyclops asked.

"Can't say for sure, but that room is filled with them.  And I just heard them take the safeties off of their weapons." Wolverine's enhanced senses could detect the minutest details that even some electronic sensors might miss.  

"Stand back and cover your eyes."  The other two heroes followed Cyclops' instructions.  Cyclops reached for his visor… and dialed up one of the HIGHER settings.  "Some people have to learn the HARD way…" he muttered under his breath.  Tapping his visor, Cyclops eyes began to glow red… and then suddenly unleashed a ruby beam of concussive force.  The beam was so immense and powerful, that the entire building shook when it struck the door to the inner chamber housing the Systematics.  Under the sheer pressure of Cyclops' beam, the door (and the wall it was braced against) instantly buckled and folded – slamming 1500lbs of steel and concrete into the Systematics that stood behind it.  Those that escaped being crushed by the debris only had seconds to recover.  

As Systematics barely had time to raise their weapons, another ruby beam bathed the room.  This one, more powerful than the last, pulverized and crushed every living thing in the room.  In fact, several pieces of Systematics were blown clear across the building… through penthouse suites… through offices… and eventually smashed through the outer walls of the building.

Wolverine and Wise-Son stared wide-eyed at the carnage.  In a way, it was all rather clean.  There wasn't a lot of blood and body parts.  In fact, the Systematic outer shells appeared to be semi-intact.  Wolverine walked over to one of the armor suits and opened it up (with his claws).  That's when the blood came out.  What USED to be the pilot came spilling out of the Systematic… literally spilling.  The man inside the armor had been crushed into a massive gooey pile of bones, skin, blood, and fluids – only the eyeballs, teeth, and a few organs remained intact.  Wise-Son actually covered his mouth.  He looked over at Cyclops, who stood there – stern faced and stoic.  With a silent nod to Wolverine, the three heroes stepped over the fallen Systematics and walked over to a large set of ornate double-doors.  On these doors, written in a classic English script, and embossed in pure gold, was the name "Edwin Alva".

Wise-Son felt his blood boil at just the sight of the name.  "This is it, the devil's office."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Wolverine.  Popping his claws, "Let's knock."  Wolverine punched his six claws through the door. A quick wiping motion created a hole where the locks used to be.  Cyclops merely pushed gently on the doors, and they walked in.  They didn't quite know what to expect, but they weren't expecting what they saw.  This penthouse "office" was nothing short of a Victorian-style palace.  Expensive artwork, posh carpeting, antique furniture, and the smell of freshly brewed tea made the place seem more like a royal manor house than a place of business.  On the far end of the room, sitting behind a huge ornately decorated desk, sat a white-haired man with platinum-rimmed glasses.  He leaned back against his chair, arms folded behind his head, and possessed a smile that was evil incarnate. 

"Good evening gentlemen", beckoned the man, "I am Edwin Alva. Care for some tea? I prefer Earl Grey… quite delightful actually." The three stunned heroes walked across the huge room and stood over Alva's desk.  There were three large (and cushy) armchairs that seemed to be prepared for them.  "Please sirs, have a seat.  I've been expecting you."

"You've got some nerve, you old b*tch", Wise-Son, "killing you is gonna make my year."

"I got dibs on carving his liver", said Wolverine, through a toothy grin.  Cyclops, however, took a seat directly in front of Alva.  The others looked at him in shock, but he signaled them to sit as well. 

"Ahh, Mr. Summers, your tactical awareness hasn't been overstated."

Looking at the laptop on Alva's desk, Cyclops retorted, "The data we need isn't in that computer, is it?"

"No Mr. Summers, indeed it isn't."

"And Remy Le Beau?  What happened to him?"

"Oh, Mr. Le Beau is quite alive.  His first act as my new employee was to turn the data over to me.  No need to kill a man of his talents.  Simply, PAY him much more than Charles Xavier to retain his services."

"Remind me to kill that guy if I ever meet him", sneered Wolverine.  Wise-Son seconded that motion. "So what now, Bub?  We drink tea like a bunch of old ladies, or start kickin' your @ss?"

"Sit here and talk to Satan's butt-monkey… or break my foot off in his ass?  Well, you know where my heart is at, boys" Wise-Son was about to get up from his seat, but Cyclops again waved him down. 

"Calm down guys.  Obviously, there's more here than meets the eye.  Isn't there Mr. Alva?"

"Indeed there is, Mr. Summers."

"And, if you make any false moves… You. Will. Die.  But I think you know that, don't you?"

"Well Mr. Summers, that remains to be seen.  Please direct your attention to the screens on the walls here."  On the nearside wall, the beautiful paintings and bookcases suddenly shifted back, slid to the side, and the wall opened up to reveal a huge set of TV monitors.  On each monitor, scenes of the battle at S.H.R.E.D. headquarters were playing out.  There were paramedics, reporters, and police tending to many, MANY S.H.R.E.D. employees.  The employees were all talking to news media, confessing their involvement in a number of clandestine operations conducted in Dakota by S.H.R.E.D. and Alva Industries.  Jean and Storm, along with the Blood Syndicate were resting and regrouping.

"You're done for Alva.  You may have expected us to attack you, but you didn't know we'd make your OWN people sell you out live on National TV."

"That WAS surprising, Mr. Summers. May I call you Scott?"

"No."

"Very well, then."  Alva's nonchalance was beginning to wear on Cyclops.  It wasn't the man's implacable calm.  It was that Alva's demeanor denoted that the X-Men were actually the ones in the crosshairs.  "Your plan was rather good, and ingenious, but unfortunately, WE are the only ones watching that broadcast.  No one else in the entire planet knows the nature of the disturbance at S.H.R.E.D. headquarters, except that it has been attacked by a gang of super-powered thugs and miscreants."  He pointed to some other monitors, and on them were the ACTUAL news broadcasts.  It was just as he stated.  All the networks reported that there was some sort of blackout in the area, likely resulting from the attack on S.H.R.E.D.  The only footage available was video after video of Blood-Syndicate members attacking the police.  

"You lying bastard," Wise-Son said, "You can jam the signals, but you can't do it forever!"

"Yes Alva", Cyclops added, "Even without video feeds, those reporters are writing notes and taking written statements from your employees, not to mention that the police are making reports.  All of those people will be witnesses with ample evidence of your guilt. Any ONE of them will eventually get their story out."

"Yes, that would be a rather sticky situation, wouldn't it?  But you see… none of those people survived the attack on S.H.R.E.D.  At least, that's what the official story will be."  Cyclops felt the blood drain from his face.  His fists clenched, as Alva pointed to the screens once again.  "Do you see those rather large objects in the horizon?"  The heroes' eyes grew wide as they watched a dozen large metallic objects streak across the sky.  As they got closer to S.H.R.E.D. headquarters, the metallic objects turned out to be humanoid in shape. Twelve enormous humanoid looking robots hovered some sixty feet above the ground.  The robotic machines had some propulsion units in their boots, and bore some specific markings.  The word "SENTINEL" was stenciled across their chest.  Scott tried to radio Jean with her communicator.  A steady stream of static crackles was the only answer he received.  "Don't bother Mr. Summers.  Your teammates will find out soon enough what they're up against.  You have the best seat in the house."

"You son-of-b*tch", growled Wolverine, "What the hell are those things?"

"Those THINGS…", Alva replied, "Are the latest in anti-mutant weaponry.  **SENTINEL** are equipped with just about every technological advancement in the Alva Industry labs.  They are hunter-killers in the purest sense, and they ALWAYS get the job done."

"No…", was all Cyclops could say, as he watched the first of those giant robots touch down on S.H.R.E.D. headquarters.  The police, employees, and other civilians began to back away from them, as the X-Men and Blood Syndicate took up defensive positions.  No sooner had the robot landed, it opened fire on the crowd with crimson beams that shot from its palms.  Human beings turned into human torches as the beam was swept back and forth over the crowd. "NOOOO!" Cyclops yelled at the monitors!

The Blood Syndicate and the X-Men sprang into action against the walking tanks, hitting them with everything they could muster.  Storm raked their metal with lightning bolts, Holocaust spewed flames at them, several other Syndicate members attempted to physically pummel behemoths.  None of their actions was having any effect on the SENTINELS.

~~~~~~~~

"Storm, can you use a more powerful tornado?"  Jean scrambled to take cover from some projectiles fired by a Sentinel.

"No Jean.  They are too close to civilians. Anything strong enough to destroy those things would kill all the people here first."  She was right.  Holocaust figured that he could just raise the temperature until even the monstrous robots' heat shielding would.  Problem with that solution is that everyone in Dakota would be long dead before the SENTINELS were destroyed.  Third-Rail and DMZ couldn't even put a scratch on those things.  What were they made of? Fade could float inside those things, but he said those robots were completely solid-state electronics.  There was nothing for him to rip out or interfere with.  All cables and sensitive circuitry was made of the same indestructible material as the outer hull.  What WERE these things?

"I'll put up a tek-shield around the survivors", Jean sprung into action, covering the civilians with a telekinetic force bubble.  Four SENTINELS bore down on the shield.  "Aaahhhh…." Jean screamed as she struggled to keep the shield up.  A fifth and sixth SENTINEL joined in the barrage.  Storm and a Syndicate member named Kwai tried to draw fire away from Jean, but the SENTINELS paid them no mind.  Instead, another SENTINEL blasted at them from behind, causing them to return fire and forsake Jean.  Jean could feel herself losing strength, and consciousness.  She knew that she was not going to last much longer. The SENTINELS were too powerful, and their attack was relentless.  The civilians under the shield began to scatter and run anywhere were they could find shelter – to no avail.  As soon as any would step away from the tek-shield, they were crushed underfoot, ripped apart by ballistic fire, or burned alive by the SENTINELS' crimson heat beams. "Scott, I love you…" was the last thing she said as her mental barrier began to fade.  A ballistic round ripped through her abdomen, and she was knocked back against the ground – landing in a pool of her own blood.  She could hear the wails of people being executed by the SENTINELS, along with police and S.H.R.E.D. units' futile efforts at returning fire.  She could barely focus her eyes, as a pairs of feminine arms picked her up and spirited her away from the combat zone.  She was carried inside the S.H.R.E.D. headquarters building.

"Jean, stay with me", Storm said, "Don't die on me. Not now."  Jean wanted to answer, but found herself to weak to speak.  All that she could feel was the painful wound that use to be her stomach, as her thoughts went out to the one man for whom she would fight to stay alive.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three monitors exploded into a fiery shower of sparks and glass – the victims of a ruby-colored force beam.  "Alva, YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"  Scott could barely compose himself as he let off another ruby-red shot that glanced over Alva's shoulders.  Alva, for his part, remained perfectly calm, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"Why kill the one man who can call off the SENTINELS?"  The X-Men and Wise-Son stopped in their collective tracks.  Alva stood up out of his chair and walked over to the monitors.  "Look at them gentlemen… you're friends and colleagues.  They are all going to die… unless you agree to call this whole affair off."

"What are you talking about a**-hole?" spat out Wise-Son.

"I'm talking about your surrender and retainer.  I will call off the SENTINELS, if you cease and desist all your hostile activities against Alva Industries and its affiliates.  Also, you will agree to perform various and sundry operations for Alva Industries, as the need arises."  Alva extended his right hand.  "The decision is yours… but do hurry, your people aren't going to survive much longer."

"Work for you?  You're out of your mind." Wolverine popped the claws. "Prepare to meet your maker, a**-wipe!"

"Wait Logan", Cyclops walked toward Alva, "we may not have a choice."

"Are you kidding me?  We need to kill this b*tch now and go help our people out!"  Wise-Son stalked towards Alva and Cyclops.

"We won't get there in time. And murdering Alva won't bring down his organization."  Scott turned to Alva.  "Make it stop. Now."

Alva tapped a button on a small remote in his left hand.  An ornate phone on his desk dialed a number.  A voice on the speakerphone answered.  "This is Charles Xavier.  How did you get this number?"

"Mr. Xavier, there isn't much I don't know about you. Your private phone numbers are the least of your security breaches", said Alva.  "I am here with your colleagues – Mr. Summers, Mr. Logan, and Mr. Bruce."

"What is it you want?"

"I'll cut to the quick, since time is of the essence.  Your people are about to die at the hands of my SENTINELS.  Moreover, after they are dead, I will launch those same SENTINELS against your mansion, and kill all the children present.  Even if you destroy them, victory will seem like defeat.  But none of this has to be… if you and your covert strike team sign on to work for Alva Industries."

"Really?" said Charles Xavier.  Xavier's calm tone made Cyclops feel more at ease.  What is the old man up to? "Mr. Alva, I am well-aware of the situation, since I am in mental contact with my agents at the scene."

"Then you know that they are doomed Mr. Xavier.  Please make your decision, they don't have much time left."  For the first time since they got here, Cyclops could hear something in Alva's voice that he hadn't quite heard before:  uncertainty.  Fear? No, but insecurity, definitely. Cyclops stepped away from Alva, as the speakerphone's silence seemed to last forever.  "Mr. Xavier, I am waiting for your answer" said Alva, clearly frustrated.  Doesn't this man know when he is beaten, he thought.

"Mr. Alva, will you turn your attention to the battlefield.  You will find that I have already answered you."  Alva noticed that Wise-Son, Wolverine, and Cyclops were smiling. Alva turned around to look at the monitors.  What he saw made his face turn whiter than it already was (if that was possible).

~~~~~~~~

Hovering above the carnage of the SENTINELS, a small ball of energy descended slowly onto the scene.  It stopped its descent about 25 feet above the head of the metallic monsters.  Holocaust and the other Blood Syndicate immediately recognized the flying intruder.  "STATIC!  What the f*ck are you doing here man?!?!  You picked a bad time to holla at your boys!"  Holocaust could barely mask his joy at seeing his favorite pain-in-the… neck. 

"You know me, Holly, I love to see a good fight – unless it involves biting people's ears off.  That's just nasty."

"Static", yelled Fade, "I hope you got something up your sleeve, ese. These monsters can't be burned, beat up, or blown up.  They're made of some kind of super-metal."

"And that's the issue here, super-METAL.  Actually, it's called Vibranium – or something like that… Professor Xavier told me about it."

"Who?"

"Just run with me, ok?  This stuff seems indestructible now, but watch and learn a little science lesson."  Static flew deliberately in the middle of the SENTINELS, who were busy fending off attacks by the Blood Syndicate.  They seemingly ignored him. Big mistake.  Static began to glow with a pulsating blue light.  "Cover your eyes!" he yelled at everyone. The Syndicate members did just that.  The SENTINELS only then began to regard him as a possible threat, and began lumbering towards the little blue light-sphere.  Suddenly, a bright flash filled the air.  There was a strange electrical sensation in the air, which made everyone's hair stand up – even those inside the S.H.R.E.D. headquarters building.

"What was that?" Jean gently spoke.  Storm was busy tending to her wounds.  Storm received some kind of mental "heads-up" from Xavier.

"It's us winning Jean.  Now sit tight and hold on.  This will all be over soon."  Storm was worried about the blood loss.  In Jean's state, she couldn't even receive Professor Xavier's mental communication.

The SENTINELS didn't look or act any different.  There were no discernable marks or any visible damage.  Suddenly, every Blood Syndicate member simultaneously received the same mental command – "Hit them."  Holocaust's eyes lit up with a fury seldom seen, even by his peers.  He extended his muscular at the metal giants.

"BURN!!!!"  He yelled. And two of the SENTINELS immediately burst into flames. The towering infernos toppled over into a pile of burning metal parts.  DMZ and Third-Rail led the charge straight some other SENTINELS, ripping their legs off and knocking them down.  The others proceeded to march out and take on the previously impervious machines. "Static, what did you do?"

"Ionized them.  By removing an electron from their Vibranium alloy, I turned it into… something less than Vibranium.  I don't know what they're made of now, but it won't have the same electron count, and thus it would have all the properties of Vibranium."

"Brother, do you REALLY think I understood you?"

"No, but it was worth a shot.  Just don't worry and start blasting them!" And with that, the Blood Syndicate began taking down the SENTINELS like clockwork.  The SENTINELS weren't even functioning properly, since their hard-wired circuitry was now ionized as well.  Before long, police and S.H.R.E.D. units joined in the fight, with high-powered rifles and explosives.  It was a strange sight to behold, the Blood Syndicate fighting side-by-side with the authorities, and working together to get people to safety.  Kwai, a Syndicate member with an ability to heal others (among other abilities), was busy tending to the wounded police and civilians- often healing them from wounds that would've meant certain death.  She was then summoned mentally by Xavier to seek out Jean Grey in the S.H.R.E.D. headquarters.  With the Professor's mental guidance, she quickly found Jean on the floor of an office, being cradled by Storm. Storm's tear-soaked face barely lifted as Kwai entered the room.

"I think it's too late", Storm said in between sobs.

"No, this one still has life", said the diminutive Asian girl.  "And that spark is all I need."  She placed her hand on Jean's head, and a beautiful pinkish glow enveloped her body.  "Live", she whispered. At first there seemed to be no effect, but then, Storm noticed that the blood stopped flowing from Jean's abdomen.  Storm gently lifted Jean's blood-soaked shirt – only to find no wound in her abdomen.  "The internal healing will be complete in a few days, but she is out of danger. I have others to attend to."  Kwai got up and left a grateful, yet dumbfounded, Storm cradling Jean's head and stroking her auburn hair.  

"It'll be okay Jean, you hear me?"

"I hear you Ororo", Jean managed to say, "It still hurts, but I can feel you and your thoughts.  But… I can't feel Scott."

"Hush… don't get yourself worked up.  Professor Xavier mentally told me that Scott and the others are okay.  They'll be fine.  You'll see…"

~~~~~~~

Alva was speechless.

He had just watched a little impish man glide in the middle of his SENTINELS, and destroy what took billions of dollars in research and production to build.  He knew that there might be mutants who held sway over the laws of chemistry and physics, but his mutant-research teams assured him that they were both rare and scarce.  To think, his own Quantum formula CREATED this one.  The Quantum formula!  Yes!  It was yet another card left to play.

"Give it up Alva, it's over!" Cyclops said.  "Your toys are destroyed, and what's left of your employees are going to gladly turn you over to the authorities."

"Yeah, plus your robots tried to kill the COPS and ROBBERS in broad day light."  Wolverine inched closer to Alva – who was sitting down at his desk.

Wise-Son walked to the other side of the desk.  He leaned over and said, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad you'll be alive to be put in jail.  I guarantee you that thugs and skinheads will "tag" your a** every night for the REST of your miserable life!"

"Yes, I will live Mr. Bruce… but I can't say the same for the city of Dakota."  Alva tapped a button on his desk – opening a trapdoor beneath him.  He and his chair disappeared downward, through an open chute in the floor. 

"Dammit!!!" yelled Wolverine, "That b*tch is NOT getting away!"  And he jumped in, head first, after Alva.

"Come on Scott", said Wise-Son, "we got to go after him."

"No need to tell me twice, lead the way." Cyclops let Wise-Son go first because Wise was indestructible, and would break his fall. He felt sorry for Wolverine… and even MORE sorry for Alva. Actually, he felt no such pity for the man who was minutes away from being impaled, ripped asunder, or blasted into pulp.  They slid down a winding chute, which seemed to stretch for hundreds of meters.  It must have run the length of the building and gone underground.  When Cyclops landed, his calculations were correct – they were INDEED underground, and they did INDEED land on top of Logan.  He quickly got up and surmised that they were in one of Alva's secret research labs.  Alva was inside a glass-encased room, madly typing on a terminal.  "Alva, you have no way out of this.  Give up."

"Wrong on both counts, Mr. Summers."  Alva finished typing and looked up with an evil grin.  You see that tank behind you (he pointed to a huge vat on the far end of the facility)?  It is filled with Quantum "juice", the formula that once dissipated into the atmosphere of Dakota, will kill every living thing in the city.  Those who manage to survive, will be "changed" like young Mr. Bruce.  But the chances are rare. Mr. Bruce and his useless cohorts were the beneficiaries of random chance and the heightened pollution level of his community.  The rest of the city will not fare that well."

"I knew we should've killed you!"  Wise-Son ran to the glass chamber and smashed a wall down with a super-powered overhand right.  "You ain't going to get the chance to do ANYTHING."

"I already did Mr. Bruce.  When that gas is released, and everyone is dead, the official story will be that the Blood Syndicate and their mutant allies destroyed the city in their attempt to attack S.H.R.E.D.  No one will be alive to dispute it."

"Evil B*tch", Cyclops said – which actually shocked Wolverine.  "Prepare to die." He dialed up an adequate kill setting on his visor.

"Kill me? Or try and be a "hero"… your choice." Another trap door opened up beneath Alva.  His head disappeared down into the hole, just as a ruby beam glanced over his terminal.  It would've been a kill shot.

"Dammit… we can chase him, or try and stop this thing from spewing that Quantum formula into the atmosphere." Scott was frantically searching for schematics to the formula vat.  He did manage to find the shutdown switch to the Psi-dampening towers in this facility.  As soon as he hit the button, a TORRENTIAL RUSH of emotions pounded his mind. It was Jean.

"Scott!!! Oh God, you're alive!" Cyclops could literally feel the desperation and love in her thoughts. It was almost overwhelming for a non-telepath like him.  "Where are you?"

"I'm here at Alva HQ.  The old buzzard got away, but we got bigger problems."

"What's going on?"

"He's trying to kill the entire city.  If we don't figure out a way to stop him, you and the others begin evacuating Dakota… IMMIDIATELY!"

"Scott Summers, what are you going to do!?!?"

"My job, Jean.  I have to figure out avert this.  If I don't…"

"Don't you dare finish that thought!"

"Jean… I love you.  When I get back to the mansion, I want to marry you.  I don't want to wait six months to do something that we should've done years ago."

"This is the oddest time to make wedding plans, Scott Summers, but consider yourself COMMITTED!  You are NOT going to die there.  Promise me you will leave before it's too late… PROMISE ME!!!"

"I promise I'll do everything in my power to get back to you Jean. I promise.  And I love you."

"I love you too."  Their mental conversation was much quicker than any verbal exchange could ever be.  All the while, Scott Summers, Logan, and Hannibal Bruce hunted for something, anything, which could save the city of Dakota and the ones they loved. Scott suddenly came across something that he was sure would work.

Scott signaled Wise-Son and Wolverine to his terminal.  He read them the grim news.  They can't stop the release of the formula… but it can be re-routed.  

"I don't get it", said Wise-Son, "Where could we re-route the gas where it would be safe?  If even just a tiny amount is released into the environment, the result is death."

"That's the catch Wise", said Scott, "Where would it be safe enough to re-route the deadly gas?  Right into this lab."  The other two heroes were floored by Scott's assessment.

The answer is the lab – it's underground and completely environmentally sealed.  The catch is that once the gas is inside the lab area, it can never be reopened.  What more, the re-routing sequence must be triggered from WITHIN the lab.  The person who stays here to vent the gas and activate the labs emergency environmental seals will be trapped inside the lab forever.  For the safety of the world at large, the lab would have to remain sealed and buried underground.  

"It's too dangerous and it's basically suicide.  I have to alert the authorities to begin evacuating the city."  Scott began to mentally contact Jean.

"There won't be enough time to get even a hundred people out", Wolverine said.  "This is dangerous and suicidal.  But hey, what isn't?"  Scott never gets to send out his mental message to Jean.  Why?  Logan clocked Scott with an Adamantium fist – knocking him unconscious instantly.  "It ain't going to be you, lover boy.  Wise, help me get this guy over to the elevators."  Wise-Son helps Wolverine drag the prone body of Scott Summers to the elevator.  They open it up, and hit the "Lobby" button and send Scott up to the ground level.  Wolverine calls another elevator down. It opens.  "Come on kid, time's wasting.  Get in and go to the lobby. I'll take care of things down here."

"Are you crazy?  You might heal quick, but not THAT quick. You might not be able to be finish the re-routing sequence when the gas starts to hit you.  I GOT to do it!"

"Kid… you got too much to live for. You have to be there for Marie. You're her husband now.  You two have a shot at life together.  I don't even know what kind of life I've led.  There's no changing my mind.  This is one for the old-Canuck."  Logan begins to walk towards the vent controls.  Turning around, he says "Do me a favor though… let Marie know that it would have been great to see her grow up and grow old.  To se her have kids, and be there for her. Kid, you tell her that I love her.  Oh, and tell Ororo… it would've been nice.  She'll know what you mean." 

Wise-Son can't believe what he's hearing… he looks at the gruff man, and finally speaks, "Logan,… you've done a great job with Marie, man.  All loving her… and talking care of her, and all that. You're right though… I truly love Marie, and I love my family, my son Edmund, and everybody. I can't believe how much stuff has changed this past year.  Me and my homies should've died at the Big Bang, but this Quantum juice just stretched out our lives."

"Kid, you didn't know that stuff was coming down."

"No, but even if it didn't, all of us deserved to die.  We were all criminals and murderers.  Hell, most of us still are.  But Alva didn't just go after us.  Alva killed all them innocent people… too many innocent people with that gas. Them folks… they didn't choose to kill each other at the Big Bang like we did.  Those folks died in MY place.  I've been living on borrowed time homie…  and I can't let another innocent person die in my place.  **It's time to set things straight**…"

Wolverine barely had enough time to say "no", when Wise-Son produced a taser from under his jacket and shot him in the chest.  Wolverine's mind exploded into a collage of color and pain.  Then everything went black…

~~~~~~~~

Scott shook Wolverine awake.  Wolverine awoke with a sudden fit of rage and fear.  "Where is he? Where is that little…"  He noticed that he was in the lobby.  His eyes grew wide, and he fumbled for one his X-Men communicator.  "Wise-Son… Hannibal… what's going on kid… please kid… don't do this… **DON'T DO THIS!!!**"

A brief crackle could be heard, and then a familiar voice comes through the speaker.  "Logan (cough), the emergency environmental seals are already in place.  The gas is already venting in here. The city is saved, man.  We won (cough)."

Logan beats on the thick tiled floor of the lobby.  "Why kid, WHY?  You didn't have to do it.  You should've let ME do it!"  For the first time in his life, the Wolverine begins to cry. Not just teary eyes, but full-blown crying.  Scott holds the man, and as he realizes what is happening, his body shutters with grief as well.

"Logan, Scott…", Wise-Son's voice crackles through the communicator, "we can't EVER open this lab up. It will kill everyone (cough)."  Wise-Son's voice begins to fade, as the communicator starts to lose its signal.  Logan, through tears, places both hands on the floor.  Scott, tears streaming down his face, relays the situation to Jean, who breaks down in Storm's arms.  The last thing that Logan and Scott hear, as the lab chamber is filled to capacity, is Wise-Son telling them to tell Marie that he'll love her forever.  The radio buzzes a little more, and Logan and Scott stare at it like it was their lifeline, like their entire world depended on hearing just one more word come out of it.

But it didn't.  It just faded out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 2002

Marie held onto her wedding ring and cried some more.  The videotape was still in the VCR, barely beginning to play.  She quickly stopped it, as she heard a knock on the door.  Wiping her tears, she answered, "Who is it?"

"It's me darlin'… can I come in?"

"Of course…" Logan walked into her room.  He could barely compose himself every time he saw her.  To see his Marie so broken, yet so strong, was almost too much for the older man.  

Marie had taken on the raising of Edmund, Wise-Son's little boy.  She had begun adoption proceedings, without protest from Hannibal's family.  Edmund was in classes at the School for Gifted Youngsters, though he wasn't a mutant.  He also lived there at the mansion, and was receiving all the grief counseling money could buy.  It was an added perk of having as wealthy a benefactor as Charles Xavier.  Scott and Jean had decided to move the wedding to June, to give time for everyone to heal from the tragedy of Wise-Son's death.  In the meantime, Xavier opened up a second School for the Gifted – a continuing education center for adults – that was aimed at rehabilitating and training ex-Blood Syndicate members.  Fade, the former lieutenant, presided over the school as he prepared to earn his degree in Business and Communications.  He was actively recruiting for the school, with great success among the old Syndicate roster.  He hoped that once Static finished his training at Xavier's Westchester school, he would join the faculty at Dakota.

"Logan…", Marie said, "I can't put the tape in. It's only been a couple months… I'm not ready."

"Take your time darlin', you got time.."

"Do I?  I thought I had all the time in the world. I thought I had so much time…", she began sobbing.  Logan hugged her tightly.  "All I know, is that I can't ever take anything for granted ever again… tomorrow is not promised for anybody." She clutched the tape to her chest.  It was now her most precious possession.  She knew that she would build up the strength to look at it soon, but… time would tell.  It always did.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the outskirts of Dakota county, on a hill overlooking the city's skyline, three old friends are preparing to embark on a journey that may take them to the ends of the earth.  Another is there to see them away, and to wish them Godspeed.

"You've been a great friend Fade, I hope you succeed with the School of the Gifted."

"Thanks man.  How long are you and Holly and X going to be gone?"

"However long it takes", interrupted Commando X, "Edwin Alva escaped and he's out there, manipulating the strings of corporations and countries even though he's an outlaw. As long as that bastard is alive, nobody's truly safe."

"Yeah", said Holocaust, "Alva Industries affiliates are still welcome in all kinds of places, like North Korea, Iraq, Genosha… most anywhere that evil people want powerful weapons, and don't care how they get 'em.  Alva's out there.  He's got to be stopped."

"I thought you weren't in this thing to be a hero man", Fade said.

"Well, everything that went down… just changed my mind.  There's more to life than cash-money and ho's.  There's my family, my dawgs, my hood, and my people." Holocaust looked at the third member of their trio, who was pensively silent.

"All of us have people in this world that we love", said the recently exhumed Wise-Son.  Hannibal Bruce was indeed alive and well, and still had a mission to complete.  It was a mission that he and Charles Xavier talked about at length while he was at the X-Men's mansion.  "The stakes are too high.  We're in this to win it, all the way.  This… **X-Syndicate**… will take the fight to Alva wherever that reptile is hiding.  The war between mutants and humans will be a secret war, and homies… we are now on the frontline."

"So Xavier knows about it?  Interesting.  What about your wife Marie? She's been crushed since you 'died' man", Fade responded.

"I explained everything to Marie and left her instructions on how to contact me. It's on a videotape that I left for her.  She'll completely know why it's PRIORITY ONE that everyone - including my family - believes that I'm dead.  That's for THEIR protection.  Alva can't know that I'm still around after him, or they'll all become targets."

"Looks like you pretty much thought of everything, homie.  (looking at the horizon) I'm going to miss you guys. Ya'll holla at me on a regular, ok?"

"Of course, man… We're **Syndicate-Fo'-Life**!"  And the four of them hugged each other like the world would end if they broke their embrace.

But the world would not end. It would go on, and good and evil would go on… and as long as evil threatened the innocent, whether it be mutant or human, the **X-Syndicate** would be there to fight the good fight.

_Excelsior._


End file.
